


Always a Bridesmaid

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cedric didn't die, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is performing bridesmaid duties for the seventh time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hallway Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in January 2006 (prior to HBP and DH). Cedric didn't die AU. Reposted here due to multiple requests.

Always a bridesmaid, but never a bride.

Hermione was reminded of that old saying when she looked in the mirror and tried to find enough fabric in her current bridesmaid dress to properly cover her cleavage. It was strapless, a pretty shade of pale peach, and probably the best bridesmaid dress she’d worn, which was saying something considering she’d been in at least six wedding parties in the last eight years. Of course, Pansy Parkinson soon to be Potter had more fashion sense than the other brides so that was beneficial. 

It was definitely better than the purple taffeta Lavender had chosen and the bright pink with white polka dots, of all things, that Luna had chosen. The dark green Ginny had picked hadn’t been too bad but Hermione just looked awful in the color. Tonks had chosen pale yellow, which was all right but made Hermione’s pale skin looked totally washed out. Padma had chosen a deep red that had been Hermione’s favorite dress until now but the style hadn’t been as pleasant as her current dress. 

As she mentally ran through the list of dresses she’d worn over the years, she realized just how many of her friends were now married. Harry was the last one single and, in less than six hours, he’d have a ring on his finger and someone to call ‘my wife’. Hermione had little interest in being married. It was something she thought she’d eventually do but it wasn’t the end all and be all if it didn’t happen. She was nearly thirty, after all, and hadn’t had even a semi-serious relationship since she and Ron broke up nearly a decade ago. 

With work, her family, and her friends, she had a busy and happy life. Sure, she thought about dating someone steadily because the nights were often lonely and she honestly missed having sex with someone other than herself, but she never felt jealous of what her friends had until another party or, more particularly, another wedding rolled around and she was the single one, the one that made things odd instead of even, the one that was often paired with anyone else single just to make things nicely balanced, and the one that often caused issues because she’d arrive dateless and mess up the perfectly planned dances and photographs by being alone. 

It was those times that she realized just how lonely it could be being a single and independent woman. It wasn’t like she deliberately set out not to have a relationship, despite Harry’s mutterings after reading some of Pansy’s girly magazines about her being ‘hands off’ and far too stubborn and opinionated for most blokes to want to date. Harry did wonders for her self esteem when he was on one of his meddling missions and Ron rarely helped matters by pointing out the various reasons why _they_ hadn’t lasted as a couple. 

By the time they’d stop, she’d wonder why any man would ever want the trouble of attempting to even speak to her much less shag or possibly date her. She knew they meant nothing by it, finding her faults just part of who she was and accepting them years ago when they’d become friends, but there weren’t many people that accepting. It was one thing to know she was obstinate, focused on work, demanding, intolerant towards sheer stupidity, impatient, and tended to have high expectations from someone she was involved with on a personal level without actually _discussing_ said expectations. It was entirely another to hear Ron and Harry rattle them off, always balancing with positive traits like they were listing pros and cons for a school project on Why Someone Would Not Want to Be Involved with Hermione Granger. 

However, she was who she was and that was what. She had no intentions of changing herself just to attract someone. If they really liked her, after all, they’d like _her_ , faults and all. If it required being some docile and passive woman to have a relationship, she wasn’t interested, thank you very much. If a man had some outdated notion of being the strong controlling one who went out to work and faced daily battles while returning home to the ickle wifey and kids, they could bloody well bugger off. Hermione loved to work, had plans of her own, and was in no hurry to even think about having children much less go about starting a family before she had accomplished several of her professional goals. 

The problem was that her notorious habit of speaking her mind and the reputation she had for being a bossy workaholic preceded her everywhere, it seemed, and no one even asked her for a date. There were only two or three who even flirted with her, and two of those were gay friends so they didn’t really count and the other just liked to be an infuriating nuisance. Hell, she’d even be happy for a relationship based on mutual respect and casual sex. If men could have such relationships, why couldn’t a woman? It was a bloody annoying double standard. She had no interest in being a slag that picked up blokes at a pub, different one every time, and she’d actually only had sex with two men in nearly twenty-nine years, but the idea was rather nice: intimacy and sex without having to deal with the hassle of an actual _relationship_.

Hermione finally gave up trying to keep her breasts properly covered. The dress barely went up over them and no amount of tugging and pulling was going to suddenly make it less revealing. She smoothed out the skirt of the pale dress and eyed herself skeptically. She thought she looked rather pretty, which was something as she tended to be somewhat critical about such things. 

Her hair was loose and fell down her back in voluminous waves that, thankfully, had decided not to be too uncontrollable this afternoon. By the end of the wedding, she’d wager a butterbeer that her hair would be a bit wild and unruly, though. She had a nice enough figure. Her hips were a bit wide and there was a slight curve to her belly but she was healthy and could care less that she was more curvaceous in certain areas that was typically considered ideal by most women. 

Her breasts were actually quite nice but none of her male friends ever let their eyes drift to those without turning bright red and stammering. They weren’t huge by any means, but they were a nice handful for a bloke with the right size hand. The bodice of the dress was gathered up so it actually made her breasts look a bit bigger, which meant Ron and Harry would most likely offer her a cloak as soon as the ceremony was over, attempting to protect her defenseless cleavage from leers. Her boys, silly foolish men, didn’t seem to realize she’d actually _like_ to be ogled, even once. 

There was a flower at her side that she thought was a bit sickeningly girly but it was Pansy so she was just relieved she’d not been forced to wear stuffy dress robes or something with lace, ruffles, or taffeta. The ceremony was going to be outside overlooking the ocean. Some spot where Pansy and Harry had gone during a weekend holiday and decided they’d revisit if they ever made things legal. It was a beautiful place from what she’d seen since arriving earlier, and she was glad she’d had the foresight to just reserve a room at the tidy bed and breakfast where the wedding was being held. 

Once she was content that she looked as decent as was possible, she slid on her shoes and left her room to go down and help Pansy get ready. As she walked down the hallway, she wondered if Pansy would be hysterical, nervous, worried, confident, or relaxed. It seemed a bride ran a gamut of emotions during the few hours leading up to the wedding and there were many times that Hermione wondered why they didn’t simply live in sin without such a ridiculous ceremony. She might be old-fashioned about some things and would deny any accusation of being a romantic, but she was a modern girl when it came to relationships and such. 

Hermione was so distracted by her predictions of Pansy’s behavior that she failed to notice the figure hurrying through the hallway paying as little attention to his surroundings as she was. They collided by a portrait of a smug looking woman holding flowers. She was a bit dazed after she ran into the very solid form that had caught her elbow before she fell backwards. It took her a moment to steady herself and then she became aware of the fact that whomever it was had her bent backwards and she was straddling his leg with his hand practically covering her arse. 

_Goodness, he’s fit_. The mutinous thought flashed through her mind as she gripped strong shoulders and slid her hands down what felt like a nicely developed back. When she realized that she was copping a feel, as backs were one of her weaknesses when it came to men, she blushed slightly and finally looked up, straight into pale gray eyes that were looking down at her from a very handsome face. _Oh, how bloody embarrassing_.

“You okay, Granger?” he asked with just a hint of amusement.

“I would be if you’d not nearly knocked me down, Diggory,” she said sharply. Of all the blokes to run in to, it had to be Cedric Diggory. Good-looking, charming, far too intelligent and nice to be normal, and one of the only people she hated to feel like a fool around. “You should watch where you’re going.”

“Well, that certainly straightens me out, Granger. Here I thought it was _you_ that nearly ran _me_ over,” he said as an easy smile crossed his full lips. She glared at his lips for being entirely too full and making her think of kissing in the way they had done since she was a silly fifteen year-old with a bit of a crush on the boy everyone wanted. Fortunately, she’d gotten past that silly notion and now knew he was just a pretty pain in her arse. 

“I’d have thought you’d be used to being wrong, Diggory,” she said with a slight smirk, glancing up at him from half-lowered lashes. She hadn’t realized that Harry had included Diggory in his wedding party. She should have, she guessed, because she knew they were pretty good friends, but it was still a bit of a surprise. 

Harry might not hang out with Diggory like he did Ron or Neville, but the events during fourth year had guaranteed a strong friendship between the two regardless. Her gaze flicked down to look at the scar on Diggory’s chin and jaw that was a permanent reminder of just how lucky he was to be standing there. Without it, he’d have been standing when Voldemort sent the killing curse at him all those years ago instead of lying on the ground bleeding from where his face had hit a tombstone. 

“What _are_ you thinking about, Granger?” he mused softly and her eyes widened when she felt his fingers pinch her bum. 

“Diggory!” she gasped and snapped out of her thoughts, glaring at him when he chuckled and gave her an innocent smile.

“I was merely trying to distract you from thinking too much. It can be painful, you know,” he informed her in a matter-of-fact tone that nearly rivaled her own for smugness.

“You’re a prat,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. It was then she realized they hadn’t moved. She was still leaning backward and he was holding her far too close to be proper for casual acquaintances who tended to verbally spar when together. “You can let me go now.”

“I don’t know, Granger,” he told her thoughtfully as his gray eyes glanced down. “I rather like the view from here.”

She was distracted by a lock of dark hair that kept falling across his forehead that her fingers itched to push back. When she noticed him looking at her in a way men just _did not_ look at her, she glanced down at her chest. Her eyes widened again as she noticed that the bodice of her dress had fallen just enough to reveal a majority of her breasts, just covering enough to keep her from being totally indecent. 

“Remind me to tell Parkinson that I love her choice in dresses,” Cedric muttered with a very masculine leer before he grinned, winked, and straightened them. He pulled her dress up for her, his fingers casually brushing against her bare skin as he fixed it. 

She tried to ignore the spark of heat that followed that brief touch because it was ridiculous to lust after someone like Cedric bloody Diggory, too nice for casual sex even if he was attracted to her and too everything else to ever _be_ attracted to her. Who wanted the overworking bookworm with bad hair when he had his choice of many willing women who were far prettier and sexier than she’d ever be. Besides, he was thirty and still single, which meant he was either somehow damaged, gay, liked shagging about even if she didn’t hear gossip about him doing that sort of thing, emotionally distant or preferred to focus on other things just like she did and wasn’t to be bothered with relationships and the like.

“I can do that,” she snapped, her face flushed with embarrassment and possibly just a hint, a tiny tiny hint, of arousal. Okay, maybe it was more than tiny. She slapped his hands, large hands with long fingers and clipped nails, away and tugged her dress back up. 

Cedric stepped back and she heard him clear his throat. She looked at him, surprised to see him staring at her and frowning slightly. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him run his fingers through his thick hair, the candlelight in the hallway catching the lighter strands of brown that were probably bleached from the sun. “You look beautiful, Granger,” he told her suddenly, his gaze meeting hers as he dragged his tongue over his lower lip. 

“Thank you, Diggory,” she said, uncertain whether that was just politeness on his part, as Cedric was always very polite, or if it might be sincere. While she felt rather pretty, it was different to hear the words from a handsome man. 

“Oh, bugger,” he suddenly cursed and snapped his fingers as he remembered something. “I was on my way to find you, actually. Potter sent me up to get you. Parkinson is having some sort of meltdown and he said you could calm her down?”

“The joys of being a bridesmaid,” she murmured as she pushed past him, inhaling sharply as she had to press against his lean body to reach the stairs. She glanced at him, her gaze lingering on his lips as she tempted to do something entirely reckless like kiss him, and stopped herself before she gave in to the temptation and humiliated herself in such a way. She moved past him to go down to help Pansy, focusing on _not_ seeing just how kissable his lips were and reminding herself that he was stubborn and loved to disagree with her about things.

“Granger,” Cedric called out as he moved quickly and grabbed her hand before she reached the stairs. 

She looked at him, wondering if he felt the same heat when he touched her that currently had her thinking _very_ inappropriate thoughts about someone she should _not_ be considering in such a way. “What is it, Diggory?”

He grinned at the sharpness in her tone and dragged his finger over her palm as he asked, “Save me a dance?”

She blinked at him stupidly for a moment, not expecting that question at all, and then smiled slightly. “Maybe,” she told him before she reluctantly removed her hand from his and hurried down the stairs. 

She was smiling and rather flushed, definitely not just from embarrassment, but knew it was silly to think it was anything more than their usual cross between bickering and flirting that had been going on during parties and events since the war had ended. Nothing ever came of the flirting except her being flustered and annoyed that she was so bad at it and he did it with natural ease and charm that was infuriating. 

A dance would be nice, though. He was an excellent dancer and she did enjoy to dance even if she never had a partner of her own. She saw Harry pacing nervously in the hall outside the room where Pansy was getting ready and grinned at how disheveled he looked, worse than even Neville during his wedding to Ginny. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she informed him crisply in her most stern tone.

“Hermione! God, what took you so long? I sent Diggory after you ages ago,” Harry whined as he moved into her arms and hugged her tight. “She’s freaking out. I don’t know why but it’s something about flowers and veils?”

“I’ll take care of it,” she told him with a smile.

Harry pulled back and sighed with relief as he pushed his spectacles up. He suddenly looked at her and whistled before he leered playfully. “You look great, Hermione,” he told her sincerely as he played with one of her errant locks of hair.

“Go get dressed, Harry,” she told him with a good-natured laugh. “I think Ron’s more nervous than you are, you know? Grooms are supposed to be wrecks, too. It’s in the marriage handbook or something.”

“You know I hate to read,” he said with a shrug and teasing smile. “Why be nervous? I’ve been with her for years now and I’d not have asked her to marry me if I didn’t want to get married. Ron’s all nervous because I’m marrying a Slytherin. Stupid prat still thinks we’re back at school sometimes.”

“I think he’s mostly worried that your child will end up in Slytherin and he’ll have to root for that team during Quidditch games,” she confided with a wink. “Now run along. I have work to do if you want your bride to stop sounding psychotic.”

“She’s kind of scary,” Harry whispered with a smile. “I’ll run along, though. Thanks, Hermione.”

“No problem,” she told him sincerely. She brushed a kiss against his cheek and then swatted his arse. “Now go.”

“So bloody demanding, woman!” Harry laughed as he moved to avoid her next swat and then went back to the room where he was getting ready. 

Hermione shook her head and opened the door to the bride’s readying room. She hadn’t put a foot into the room before Pansy was grabbing her. “Hermione, the flowers are all _wrong_! And I look like a bloated cow!”

She turned to shut the door, catching a glimpse of a familiar figure pacing in the garden outside the window, running his fingers through his thick brown hair and muttering to himself. She allowed herself a moment to ogle and, as if he could feel her gaze, Cedric looked through the window and their gazes met. She flushed and quickly shut the door, turning towards Pansy. “It’s all right. I’m here now.”

A bridesmaid’s work was never done.


	2. The Bride

By the time Hermione had charmed the flowers a lighter shade and convinced Pansy that she did not resemble a cow, bloated or otherwise, two hours had passed. She was actually relieved when Pansy became the arrogant woman that was more familiar than the weeping mess she’d just been and started to primp. 

The entire concept of being that invested in how one looks was rather lost on Hermione. She spent maybe ten minutes a day getting ready, though that didn’t include her shower. A quick brush of her hair, braiding it or putting it up if she’d decided not to just leave it down, getting dressed and glancing at the mirror to make sure everything was neat and tidy, and then was ready. 

She just couldn’t understand spending an hour putting on make-up and fixing hair and all that nonsense. If you were going to work, no one cared if you looked glamorous or made up. If you were going on a date, the bloke obviously liked you enough to ask in the first place so what was the point? When she’d dated Ron and Oliver, she’d never gone to such measures. 

Of course, her relationship with Ron had lasted from the end of the war (having started with a celebratory shag that had been induced by just too much Firewhisky and had resulted in her losing her virginity rather awkwardly) until about six months later (and the sex, thankfully, was much better when they were both sober). Her brief affair with Oliver Wood, which had been an excellent lesson in casual sex, had happened a few years later and lasted only a few months before he’d been traded and left Britain. Somehow, though, she doubted either had ended due to her lack of interest in spending an hour prettying herself up. 

There was certainly nothing wrong with some women liking to do that sort of thing, of course. She was pretty sure that many women would find her ridiculous for getting up early so she could spend an hour every morning reading and start her day off well. Actually, Ron and Harry thought that was ridiculous, too, so maybe she just wasn’t very normal. Thankfully, she could care less about being ‘normal’ and cared more about being ‘Hermione’.

Pansy seemed to have mistaken her thoughtful expression for boredom, a mistake that seemed to be made far too often in Hermione’s opinion, and turned to face her. “You’re not a very good bridesmaid,” Pansy said bluntly. “I’m the bride and you’re supposed to be fawning over me and telling me how beautiful I look.”

“I wasn’t aware that there was a handbook,” Hermione mused. 

“There is,” Pansy told her smugly. “I saw it at that Muggle store you forced me to visit in your quest to get me to like something Muggle. Imagine that, a book that Hermione ‘I’ve read everything in the entire world just so I can be smugly smarter than you are’ Granger hasn’t read!”

“Did you read it?” she asked dryly as she sat in the large and surprisingly comfy chair near the window. 

“Well, no, but I’m certain one of the rules said you should fawn over me,” Pansy said confidently. “So get your lazy arse up and come fawn over me.”

“You know you look gorgeous and you know that Harry’s so gone on you that it wouldn’t matter if you were wearing that or a sack because he’d still gladly worship the ground you walk on,” Hermione pointed out matter-of-factly. “False flattery is a silly notion and I refuse to simper over you just because you’re wearing a wedding dress and had the intelligence to ask me to be your maid of honor.”

“And Harry wonders why you’re single?” Pansy snorted in a very un-Pansy like way and rolled her eyes. “Fine, don’t fawn. See if I toss you the bouquet.”

“I hadn’t planned on being there to catch it,” Hermione said sweetly as she crossed her legs and lazily kicked her foot until her shoe was barely hanging on. “Send it to Seamus. He’s been hoping for Dean to make an honest man of him since same sex marriages became legal in the Muggle world. Personally, I don’t see what it matters, especially after that ceremony they did a couple of years ago. Oh bloody Hell! I’d forgotten that. He made me wear that scratchy robe and called me his groomswench.”

“That robe was awful,” Pansy agreed as she smoothed out her dress and scowled at the clock. She looked back at Hermione and smirked. “I have much better taste. You look beautiful in that color, just as I predicted, and the ceremony will be quite lovely as long as you don’t scowl like you did at Lavender’s wedding.”

“I wasn’t scowling,” Hermione denied. “The dress was too tight to breathe properly and I felt like I was going to pass out before Lee finished saying his vows. Besides, you should talk! I thought you were going to hex Theo before Daphne could finish speaking.”

“Daphne could have done better,” Pansy said simply. “She settled for the first bloke that asked and didn’t even care that the mark on his forearm, regardless of his eventual alliances, would never allow her to escape the whispers at society functions. Millicent at least married that Hufflepuff, even if he is an anal prat.”

“Ernie is a nice guy,” Hermione told her, frowning as she realized she’d been a bridesmaid seven times over. She’d forgotten Shay’s ceremony as it had been one of the first a couple of years after the war. 

“You’re scowling,” Pansy pointed out. “See? You did that at Lavender’s wedding, also. Harry thought you were sick but I figured you were just nauseous from all that horrible taffeta.”

Hermione snickered but tried to cover it with a cough. She met Pansy’s knowing gaze and they both started to laugh. “All right, yes, the dresses she chose were bloody awful,” Hermione finally admitted, “but I wasn’t scowling!”

Pansy shook her head and glanced at the clock again. Suddenly, she narrowed her eyes and turned her gaze back to Hermione. “Where were you?”

“What?” She really felt sorry for Harry sometimes. During the war, Pansy had remained neutral but fed information to Millicent, who had, in turn, given it to Ernie to give to them. A few years after the war, Harry had run into Pansy at the market, of all places, and the next thing Hermione knew, he was at her breakfast table confessing that he’d shagged Pansy Parkinson and wanted to do it again. She was thankful that the years had somewhat mellowed Pansy but she was still a right bitch at times and smarter than Hermione had ever given her credit. She also had a habit of changing moods a dozen times in the span of an hour, which is where Hermione’s pity for her best friend came in. 

“Earlier. I know Harry sent for you as soon as I started my fuss because he’s trained well,” she said with an affectionate smile that made Hermione roll her eyes, “but it took you ages to get your arse in here. So where were you? I know you weren’t putting on cosmetics as you have that whole natural woman thing going on that is almost sickening, I must admit, and when you got here, you looked flushed.”

“You were throwing a fit when I got here,” Hermione reminded her as she glanced out the window, unknowingly looking for a glimpse of dark brown hair that looked as if it was sleep tousled in a way that was sexy instead of messy. 

“Oh please,” Pansy drawled as she obviously found a distraction from the slow moving minutes on the clock. “I was having a small episode of sorts but I know flushed cheeks when I see them, Granger.”

Great. Reversion to last name meant Pansy was in her ‘Hippogriff with a fish’ mode. The only possible distraction in these circumstances was down the hall getting ready and probably having to calm Ron down. “I had to race down the stairs to get here, Parkinson,” she said. “I think you might be a little flushed after that, too.”

“No.” Pansy shook her head and grinned in a way that made Hermione somewhat nervous. “Racing down the stairs flushed is a bit higher in the cheekbones and would have been sweaty and potentially gross. No, Granger. You had that I’ve been flirting with a sexy man, or woman if that’s where your interest lies, which is okay with us, you know, as love is love regardless of gender but I do expect you to check me out more if it is the latter because I’m hot---“

“I don’t prefer women,” Hermione interrupted before Pansy had organized some mental coming out dinner. 

“Are you sure? That would actually explain a lot. Maybe that’s why you never date blokes,” Pansy said thoughtfully, losing her earlier train of thought as she stared at Hermione. “Nah, I’d have noticed. I’m pretty intuitive about those sorts of things.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I think that’s something I might know,” Hermione said as she looked at the clock and wished it was time.

“As I was saying,” Pansy continued as if she’d not just been distracted by thoughts of Hermione being a lesbian, “you had that I’ve been flirting with a sexy man and he flirted back flush. It was low on your cheekbones and your eyes were a bit glazed. Now tell me why it took you so long. Or should I say _who_ delayed you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was not flushed in any sort of flirting and sexy man way.” Hermione stood up and walked to the window, leaning to the side slightly when she saw a man walking by a tree. His hair was too dark to be Cedric, though. Cedric’s hair was sunkissed.

“It’s either fawn over me or tell me who kept you from rushing to my side,” Pansy said firmly. “And you know that I’ll find out even if it requires asking everyone during the reception. Of course, if it comes to that, I’d insist on details, too, and be inclined to embellish things to make the guests more interested.”

“You’re an evil bitch,” Hermione decided as she turned away from the window to stare at her soon to be sister-in-law in the ways that really counted. 

“Yes, I am,” Pansy agreed with a smug smile as she sat in the chair Hermione had just vacated and daintily crossed her feet at the ankles. “Now tell me who got you all flushed and distracted you from your bridesmaid duties.”

“It’s nothing,” she told her honestly. “I ran into someone as I was coming downstairs and nearly fell on my arse. He kept me from falling, we exchanged a few words, and then I came down here to help you.”

“It wasn’t Zabini because he’s in Belgium or Belize or some Bel-place or another on business and has to miss the ceremony.”

“Zabini is an obnoxious arse,” Hermione pointed out. 

“True, but he is very good-looking and I’ve seen him cause that sort of flush before,” she said with a shrug. “But you’re obviously immune to his seductive charms. Too bad, really, as I’m sure he’d give you a very improper shagging some time.”

“Pansy!” 

“Hermione!” Pansy mocked and grinned. “Unlike those silly boys, I do realize you’re a woman and have needs that you’ve been meeting far too long on your own. You’ve probably developed carpal tunnel by now as it’s been _ages_ since you shagged that intense Quidditch bloke and you’re not really the type to shag around without some sort of relationship, in which case I’d have heard about it.”

“Why are we discussing my sex life?” Hermione asked tightly as her cheeks turned a deep red. Pansy always managed to get her to react like some prudish shrew despite her open mindedness and rather mentally casual attitude towards sex. Again, she had to think that she felt sorry for Harry, who blushed if the word sex was even spoken in mixed company it seemed. 

“I think lack thereof is more appropriate, dear,” Pansy said with a large grin. “Because it’s fun and I’m bored. If it wasn’t Zabini, then who could it be?” She frowned and Hermione was convinced she could see the brunette running through a mental list of every guest invited before she suddenly snapped her fingers and smiled. “Oh I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. Diggory.”

“Being your bridesmaid does not mean that I have to entertain you with a discussion on my personal life,” Hermione decided. 

“You Gryffindors need to learn subtlety,” Pansy observed dryly. “If you want to change the subject because you’re gorgeous friend who looks absolutely smashing in her bridal gown, thank you very much, has guessed the correct identity of a certain very handsome Hufflepuff who has caused flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes, you don’t do it so abruptly that she knows she’s right.”

Hermione laughed. “Do you listen to yourself sometimes?”

“Why would I when I have others around to listen to me?” Pansy grinned. “ _So_ it was the brave and dashing Cedric who detained you. Remind me to have a word with him after the ceremony. He deserves a proper scolding for interfering with my fit. Perhaps you’d like to spank him? I’ve always thought you were a bit of a kinky one.”

“No, I do _not_ want to spank Cedric.” Hermione glared and tried to ignore how easily an image came to mind of doing just that. “And you won’t mention anything to him because there is nothing to discuss.”

“Of course you don’t, dear,” Pansy said in a very patronizing tone that caused Hermione to scowl. “Well, if you’d simply indulge my curiosity and tell me what happened, I’ll be able to decide if it’s worth a scolding or not. You know, Hermione, I never pegged you as one for a Quidditch player fetish. You wicked minx!”

“I don’t have a---“ Hermione’s voice trailed off as she leaned against the window. Viktor, Ron, Oliver. 

“And another point to the Slytherin,” Pansy told her sweetly, obviously amused by her latest distraction from the clock.

“Fine,” Hermione relented. “It really was nothing, Pansy. He was running upstairs to get me for Harry and I was headed downstairs. He ran into me, I nearly fell, he caught me, and we had a brief conversation.”

“That is just---boring,” Pansy declared. “There’s more to it than that. There has to be with the way you two flirt during those boring debates about Ministry politics and the implementation of whatever the fuck it is that keeps you both entertained during dinner parties.”

“We don’t flirt,” she denied. At Pansy’s look, she shrugged. “Okay, maybe there is a little flirting but it doesn’t mean anything. He likes to be a pest and tries to fluster me and I’m horrid at flirting so it certainly doesn’t count.”

“It counts,” she said pointedly. When Hermione frowned and shifted in place, not entirely comfortable discussing Cedric Diggory and the way she usually felt around him, Pansy stood up and walked to the window. “That dress looks gorgeous. I do hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes as I imagine the blokes will be lining up to dance with you, if only in the hopes of looking down your dress.”

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes, glad for the change of subject. “You’re horrid.”

“Thank you. I so worry that marrying a Gryffindor, especially one as bloody nice and decent as Harry, is going to rub off on me and I’ll lose my edge,” Pansy confided with a grin. “I like being a rude bitch. It allows me to get away with a great many things.”

“I imagine it does,” Hermione agreed. “Don’t worry. You’re still an evil Slytherin bitch.”

“You say the sweetest things, Hermione,” Pansy declared before she hugged her. “I appreciate you being my maid of honor. Anyone else wouldn’t have kicked me in the arse and forced me to stop being so dramatic.”

“I’ll kick you in the arse any time you need it, Pansy,” Hermione volunteered with a smile as she hugged her back. “Now stop hugging me or you’ll muss your dress. Do you want me to venture out there and see how things are coming along? I’ll swipe you a tart so your stomach doesn’t growl during the ceremony.”

“Chocolate. Bring me chocolate, brideswench!” Pansy commanded, both of them sharing a laugh at the reference to Seamus’ common declaration during his ceremony.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hermione promised as she tugged her dress back up and snuck out to check on the progress of the garden, get a mental list of who had arrived so far, and steal the bride some chocolate. She’d also check on Harry, she decided, and let him know Pansy was okay and waiting impatiently.


	3. Let Them Have Cake

The first inclination that there was a problem was a hissed, “Hermione”, coming from her right shortly after she left Pansy’s room. For a moment, she considered ignoring the hiss. She recognized it, of course. She had been the bridesmaid to said hiss a few years earlier and knew from that experience that acknowledging it meant there was no going back. When Ginny hissed her name a bit louder, Hermione sighed and turned to look at the redhead standing in the open doorway of a pantry or possibly cloakroom.

Ginny looked huge. Hermione wasn’t one of those people who could lie and say ‘Oh, you look all glowing and lovely’ when Ginny asked if she looked fat. She was one of those rather blunt hated people who nodded and said ‘yes, you look like a whale, but a glowing one’. Needless to say, she’d not been someone Ginny seemed to particularly want around by the time she reached her seventh month of pregnancy and started to waddle slowly as she got bigger and bigger. 

Pansy’s dislike of the former girlfriend of her future husband was obvious in the pale pink dress she had chosen for Ginny. Some redheads could pull off pink and make it look quite pretty. Ginny was _not_ one of those redheads. Her hair was much too vibrant and her skin far too pale beneath the multitude of freckles. She looked washed out and huge, which Hermione was pretty certain was what Pansy was going for. After all, it was a good reminder to Harry that she was the best choice. 

What Pansy failed to realize was that Harry loved pregnant women with an ‘I wanna be a daddy and have a dozen children one day, whee!’ sort of exuberance. Having Ginny’s swelled belly so prominently on display would merely ensure that Harry was focused on beginning his own dream of fatherhood that much sooner. She’d wager a galleon that Pansy was pregnant within six months regardless of Pansy’s own expectations of motherhood and insistence she was waiting until she was thirty-five and could look fat without caring too much.

“Hermione!” Ginny scowled as she hissed this time and waved her hand beckoning Hermione to the pantry where she seemed to be hiding.

Hermione deviated her path to look outside and see who, if anyone, had arrived yet and walked to the pantry, where she found herself quickly pulled inside. “You know, if you try to snog me, I’m telling Neville,” she teased as Ginny’s belly rubbed against her. “However, that might not be a problem because I don’t think you could reach me over that tummy.”

“Hmph. I already kissed you and it wasn’t something I’d care to repeat,” Ginny declared loftily before sticking her tongue out and rubbing her belly protectively. “Stop talking about your future niece or nephew or I’ll insist they call you Auntie Mione.”

“You wouldn’t!” Hermione smacked Ginny’s arm lightly and stuck her own tongue out before she giggled. “Besides, that was a right smashing kiss, Mrs. Longbottom. You only wish all your kisses could be that good.”

“I was fourteen and you were drunk on Firewhisky that you stole from Sirius,” Ginny reminded with a large smile, “and I never told Harry or Ron that little miss perfect prefect got pissed so I guess the kiss wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“The word stole is so harsh. I prefer borrowed without intent to return,” Hermione told her. “Since we’ve established that you’re not assaulting me with that huge belly, are you sure you’re not having twins or maybe even triplets?, for another kiss, why, oh pregnant one, have you pulled me into the pantry?”

“Well, if you’re that desperate for a kiss, I suppose I could give you one. These hormones have me ready to rut against the bloody couch some nights,” Ginny muttered crossly. 

“No offense, Gin, but I’m not that desperate for a kiss,” Hermione said with a laugh. “Now what’s wrong?”

“Oh, right.” Ginny snapped out of her scowling at pregnancy thoughts and lowered her voice, as if the flour might run off and gossip. “I don’t want Neville to know I told you.”

“You know, I have no qualms about hexing a pregnant woman except the fear you’ll sit on me in retribution so why don’t you stop procrastinating and tell me the problem?”

“Just wait, Hermione Jane Granger. One day, you’ll be as big as a house and I’m _so_ going to repay you for being such a rude friend,” Ginny warned with an easy smile. “I am _huge_ and everyone keeps lying and saying I look glowing. What the bloody fuck does that mean? I look like someone cast _Lumos_ on me or I resemble a fat candle? Why can’t they just say ‘Ginny, you’re fucking huge!’? Hmph. Being pregnant shows you who your real friends are, the ones that tell you like it is and can say you look like shite when you do. By the way, that’s a fantastic dress and I so know that cow deliberately chose this one to make me look wretched but she had excellent taste with your dress. You look beautiful.”

“Perhaps it’s glowing due to carrying all that extra weight around? Your face does get rather sweaty and that can sometimes make one seem like they’re glowing,” Hermione pointed out as she leaned against a shelf and tapped her foot. “Thank you, Gin. It is a lovely dress, isn’t it? Now, what’s this about Neville?”

“Ladies don’t sweat, they perspire,” Ginny said in a voice eerily echoing Molly. “Neville, brave wonderful husband that he is, is about to hide, I think. The poor boy is having _problems_ with the caterers. I know you’re helping the bitch, I mean, Pansy, get ready but can you please save my husband? I want him to know his child, and be there for the labor because I plan to hex his bollocks off for putting me through this if I have labor pain.”

“Problems with the caterers?” Hermione was instantly alert and in crisis mode. “What’s wrong with the food?”

“It’s awful,” Ginny whispered with a sincere frown. “I think Pansy’s aunt recommended the place? The Evil Aunt from Edinburgh, as Pansy calls her, and I’d say this confirms that nickname. It’s really not edible at all and poor Neville is freaking out amongst the plates of oddly smelling paste that are supposed to be chicken and limp green stuff that is supposed to be vegetables.”

“I’ll go help him. Can you take Pansy some chocolate to eat? She’s nervous even if she’s doing her best to seem calm and I promised her a bit of food,” Hermione explained as she opened the door to the pantry and stepped out, right into a hard body that was becoming increasingly familiar.

Rough hands that were a testament to years spent riding a broom held her elbow to keep her from toppling back, again, and she looked up into very amused gray eyes. “Granger, we really do need to quit meeting like this,” Cedric drawled as his lips curved into an easy and very flirtatious smile. “I’ve had girls fall all over me before but never quite like this.”

“Arrogant prat,” she muttered as she caught her balance and straightened, quickly glancing down to make sure her bits were properly covered this time. 

“Confident and self-aware sounds much better than arrogant, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Longbottom?” Cedric mused as he flashed a killer smile at Ginny, who might be married and pregnant but was not dead. Though Hermione might take care of the latter if she kept giggling in that breathy sort of tone because, really, she was married!

“Arrogant is very harsh but then so is our dear Hermione,” Ginny twittered in a way that certainly sealed Hermione’s plans to take care of the lack of dead in that description. 

“You’re looking nice and round this afternoon,” Cedric said in a tone that was far too charming and Hermione felt like speaking up to remind him that Ginny was taken by a rather large and stocky man that might be rather timid but could be pretty damn tough when he wanted to be, thank you very much. “Neville’s a lucky man.”

He winked at her! Hermione glowered and refused to acknowledge that she was jealous over the fact that Cedric was holding her still, rather close to that hard muscular body that was really quite nice, and flirting with a pregnant married woman who looked horrid in pink. 

“Yes, he is,” Ginny said smugly and actually seemed to gloat when she looked at Hermione. “Don’t you look rather comfy like that, Hermione. Did I hear Cedric say you’ve fallen for him?”

“Cedric is a cheeky git who needs to realize that the world is not enamored with his pretty looks and nice smile,” Hermione said firmly as she glared at the smirking man in question. 

“Insults from our dear Hermione are certainly a sign of affection,” Ginny confided in a loud whisper. “She’d not bother thinking them up if she didn’t care.”

“Really?” Cedric asked with interest as his fingers slowly stroked her elbow and moved along her arm slightly. “So the more she insults, the more she likes?”

“Yes,” Ginny confirmed and then had the audacity to look at Hermione with a grin and wiggle of her eyebrows. “I think I’ll leave you two to flirt and check on the bride. Hermione, don’t forget that you promised to save Neville. Perhaps Cedric can help?”

“I can do it on my own, thank you very much,” Hermione finally spoke, feeling a bit silly for simply gaping and glaring at them until this moment. 

“Granger, hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s much more fun with someone else?” Cedric asked in an innocent tone that was thick with innuendo. 

“Actually, I think I might rather like to stay and watch this,” Ginny muttered as she looked from one to the other and practically leered. Hermione gave her a Look that made her grin knowingly. “But the bride needs chocolate and distraction so I’ll go entertain her while you two do whatever it is you want to do.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Hermione hissed in Ginny’s ear when the redhead gave her a half-hug. 

“Of course you are,” Ginny whispered back. “You look gorgeous, Hermione, and a very handsome man who is lusted after by many women and even quite a few men is looking at you as if he wants to take you somewhere and do the most deliciously wicked things to you so forget about killing anyone and think about letting him _have_ you.”

“You do realize he can still hear you, don’t you?” Hermione asked dryly as she glanced at Cedric and saw him smiling rather smugly and not at all offended by Ginny’s declaration that he had such wicked plans in mind for Hermione as he continued to hold her arm despite her being completely balanced.

“Being pregnant allows me to get away with things like this so just indulge me,” Ginny said with a wink. “Now I’ll run along and check on that woman who I’m still not sure is good enough for our dear Harry while you save my husband and flirt with the handsome Mister Diggory a bit more.”

“She’s going to get hexed so horribly once she has that child,” Hermione promised when Ginny hurried away from the open pantry, leaving her with a far too smug Cedric Diggory. 

“Granger, you know you won’t hex her so why waste so much time making empty threats?” Cedric asked as he stepped closer to her. His fingers suddenly brushed against her cheek and her gaze swung to meet his in surprise. He pushed a few stray locks of hair behind her ear and blinked at her before he suddenly stepped back and let her arm go. His fingers ran through his disheveled hair and he licked his lips as he looked around the small hallway. For a moment she would have sworn he was nervous, which was really foolish to even consider, but it was the second time today she’d had that thought so perhaps she was right? He stared down the hall and chewed on his full bottom lip before he spoke. “What did she mean about saving Neville?”

“Oh bugger!” Hermione snapped out of her Cedric-induced daze and remembered the crisis. “The food.”

Cedric looked at her and arched a brow. “The food?”

“Ginny said it was horrible and that Neville is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I’m to save him without him knowing she told me,” she explained as she started towards the kitchen of the inn. Cedric fell in step beside her and she did her best to ignore her reaction to the casual brush of his arm against hers as they walked or the fact that she could really just push him against the wall and sniff his neck because he smelled unbelievably good: spicy and fresh with just an underlying aroma of lemons, maybe.

Somehow, she thought he might get the wrong idea if she sniffed him so she focused on the crisis instead. She was good with solving problems, after all, and there were still a few more hours until the ceremony. Occupying those hours with a crisis she could solve was much better than dealing with Pansy’s questions and Ginny’s mood swings. Besides, it would also distract her from Cedric who seemed intent to fluster her by doing odd things like flirting and staring in a very confusing way. 

“How horrible is horrible?” Cedric asked with a hint of concern. “Harry has been putting on a good show of not being nervous but he’s been pacing for the last hour, easily. That’s why I needed to get out, actually. Only so much pacing a bloke can watch, you know?”

“It will be fine,” she said firmly. “I’ll make sure it’s fine. Harry is like my little brother regardless of whether or not we actually share blood, and I’ll not have his wedding ruined by bad food.”

Cedric looked at her and grinned in a way that made her eyes narrow and she almost missed one of the three steps down, wondering when she had become so bloody clumsy and why it always had to be around this man that she looked rather foolish instead of poised and graceful. He took her arm naturally, as if it was something he did often, and she shivered slightly when she felt his warm fingers against her bare skin. “You know, Granger, when you say it will be fine, I’m inclined to believe you. Most people say that and they’re full of shite but you really mean it.”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” she asked curiously. The kitchen had to be on the other side of the inn, of course, which she realized made a pantry on the opposite side rather impractical. 

“See, that’s what I mean,” he pointed out. “You’re just---you and I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”

He dropped his hand again but she felt his fingers tug one stray curl in a friendly way that Harry and Ron often did to let her know they were serious about something. When she looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, she could swear he might be blushing. “According to some people, that might be a very good thing indeed,” she teased lightly, knowing fully well what many people had to say about her bluntness and tendency to be rather controlling.

Before he could reply to her comment, as she saw he intended to do by the way he smiled, they arrived at the kitchen. Crisis was a very suitable word, she realized as she surveyed the food, if you could call it that. The only things that looked edible were the items from the bakery. Everything else was just horrid. Neville was standing amongst the counters of trays and looked completely lost, probably ruing the day he agreed to help Harry by looking after the food after it was determined that Ron wasn’t the best one to have supervise food. 

“Hermione,” Neville said her name as if it was a lifeline and gave her the best puppy dog eyes of any of her male friends, even more so since he had no idea he was giving them to her. “It’s just awful. What do I do? People can’t eat this stuff.”

Cedric was behind her. She could feel the heat of his body even if they weren’t touching and knew one step back would have her pressed against warm firm flesh. She bit her lip to keep from laughing when he suggested, “Let them eat cake?”

“Diggory, you’re not being helpful,” she scolded as she looked up and arched a brow, giving him a prissy look she’d perfected during the last seventeen years of friendship with numerous silly boys. He gave her a grin that she had begun, in a rebellious part of her mind that refused to listen to all the reasons why she should _not_ be thinking such things about Cedric Diggory, to refer to as hers. 

“I can be _very_ helpful, Granger. Just say the word and I’ll be more than happy to demonstrate the numerous ways,” he drawled before giving her a wink and having the cheek to brush his knuckles against her bare back before slapping her lightly on the arse. 

While Cedric Diggory was always very charming to everyone, he wasn’t really much of a flirt and she certainly had never seen him display such, well, sassy behavior before. He was usually friendly but seemed ill at ease with the attention his looks and general personality brought to him. He flirted with her, though, that annoying voice reminded and she blinked at him for a moment and wondered---Food. Right, she had a food crisis to take care of at the moment. 

She looked at Neville who seemed rather amused amidst his anxiety. She stepped forward and investigated the food. “This isn’t edible,” she finally declared as she tugged up her dress again. 

“What do I do?” Neville asked helplessly. 

“Leave it to me,” she decided as she grew thoughtful. She forgot all about Cedric and disconcerting flirting as she focused on the problem and thought of a solution. “I’ll go to town and see what I can find. I’m sure there is at least a café or two open that have take away. I know what Pansy and Harry both enjoy and have experience with enough weddings in the past to know what’s acceptable as food for the reception. I’ll also send an owl to the caterers to pick up this rubbish and remind them of the clause in the contract we signed that gave us the right to refuse the food and only have to pay a set fee. I made sure to add that stipulation after Lavender’s caterers had such a poor showing, thankfully.”

“All right,” Neville said as he nodded and gave a huge sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you came by. I didn’t know what to do. Wait, Ginny sent you, didn’t she?”

“Actually, she was running away from me, the silly girl,” Cedric spoke up. “She still refuses to put me out of my misery by giving me the time of the day, you know? Evil wench just holds my heart and is immune to my good looks and natural charm.”

“Perhaps I’m simply allergic to obnoxious arrogance?” Hermione gave him a grateful look for covering Ginny’s involvement without even having to lie beyond his ridiculous declarations of heart holding. 

“Charming wit,” Cedric corrected with an easy grin. 

“Haughty conceit?” she replied back with a slight smile. 

“Uh, not to interrupt your, uh, whatever,” Neville interrupted, “but what do I need to do?”

Hermione shook her head slightly and looked at him. “Don’t tell anyone about the food crisis. It’s silly to make them worry about something I’ll take care of soon enough. Maybe you should go check on the flowers? I was going to stop by during my walk before I was accosted by Diggory and subjected to his harassment.”

“Harassment would insinuate that my attention was unwelcome,” Cedric pointed out lazily as his gaze swept over her, lingering on her breasts and then her lips. “I seem to remember it being a certain stunning brunette with a sharp tongue and keen wit who fell over me. _Twice_.”

“I’ll go check on the flowers,” Neville decided as his gaze moved from her to Cedric. He frowned at Cedric and gave him a warning look, which surprised Hermione slightly. “If you’re just playing around, I’m taller and bigger than you are and know a few hexes that will make it very painful to be in your shoes.”

Cedric nodded once, seemingly unfazed by Neville’s casual threat. “Granger’s not the type of girl one plays those games with, Longbottom.”

“No, she’s not,” Neville agreed quietly, giving him one last stern frown before he looked at Hermione and smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, Hermione. I was a bit freaked out. I’ll go check the flowers now and make sure they’re perfect. If you need help with the food, just let me know.”

He hurried from the kitchen before she could either change her mind or ask him what that unnecessary threat for Cedric had been about. She looked at Cedric and arched a brow curiously but he simply met her gaze and leaned against the counter. “Fine,” she muttered, not entirely sure what games they’d been talking about but deciding it must be some man thing, which mean she didn’t _want_ to know. “I’m going to town.”

“No, you’re not,” Cedric said as he pushed his tall frame away from the counter and walked towards her. He grinned as he pushed his hair away from his forehead, the dark locks almost immediately falling back into disheveled sexiness. Before she could protest, he took her hand and started to walk towards the back exit of the kitchen which opened onto a path that led to the village.

“I’m not?” she managed to ask as his fingers entwined with hers in a casual way that could have been platonic if not for the awareness she felt when his palm brushed against hers. 

“Nope,” he informed her as he ushered her out into the warm summer air. He smiled as he fell in step beside her, a stubborn tilt to his chin telling her not to even bother telling him she could do it on her own or to go back inside, which she had to admit she rather liked. “ _We’re_ going to town.”


	4. A Trip to Town

Derbanshire was a nice village with a mixture of historical buildings and new developments. The population was estimated to be less than 10,000 people currently, but it was certainly larger than many of the villages she’d visited. The local industry included farming and a plant not too far away that made furniture for some of the shops in London. It was a quaint little place with several pubs, a pretty park, and a market. Due to its location on a well-traveled road to several popular tourist areas, it also had two cafés and a few smaller stores to tempt travelers to stop. 

Hermione tried to recall every detail of the pamphlet she’d read at the inn as they left the grounds. Before she could start on the short history section, Cedric squeezed her hand a bit more firmly than necessary. She glanced at him and scowled when she saw his innocent ‘I’d _never_ do that’ smile. “What?”

“What what?” he asked as they made their way down the rocky path to the road that would lead them to Derbanshire. 

“You’re really quite infuriating,” she muttered crossly as she looked back at the path and wondered why she’d never before noticed his need for attention and dislike of being ignored. 

“Does Hermione Granger find everything she can’t predict, control, or ignore infuriating?” 

“No. I reserve that label solely for former Hufflepuffs who invite themselves on my walk to town and insist on being rather maddening a majority of the time.”

“I’ll be sure to alert the rest of my House when Susan puts out the next issue of the Puff Today newsletter. Infuriating According to Hermione Granger with a brief description should be easy enough to accomplish.”

She glanced at him curiously, unable to tell by his straight-faced expression if he was actually serious. He smiled at her as he helped her down the few stairs to the road, still completely frustratingly unreadable. Finally, she asked, “There’s a Puff newsletter?”

“Sorry, Granger. I’m not at liberty to discuss such information with a former Gryffindor,” he informed her matter-of-factly. She was certain he was laughing at her silently because his lips were curved into a smile that was becoming rather familiar and always aimed in her direction, it seemed, and his eyes were practically twinkling with suppressed laughter. He lazily rubbed the back of her hand with his finger and lowered his voice. “House loyalty. You know how that is, I’m sure.”

“We’ve not been at Hogwarts in years,” she reminded him as she moved her finger lightly over his knuckles. 

“While _I_ know this, it seems some people continue to classify people based on their former House,” he explained. “When someone says ‘a former Hufflepuff’ instead of ‘a handsome charming man’, for instance, it is obvious that their perception on people is still somewhat decided based on labels from years ago.”

“Or they possibly prefer using a description that is entirely accurate versus one that is based on fiction or opinion.”

“Ah, but would you prefer to be called ‘the former Gryffindor’ or even ‘the Muggleborn witch’ to ‘the beautiful young woman’? All three are technically accurate. ” 

“It would depend upon the person speaking, the situation, and the way the description was used. The latter, for example, is an opinion and could easily be said with a slight sneer to indicate rudeness instead of sincerity or it could be a phrase that so casually spills from the tongue of the speaker that it’s as impersonal as ‘the former Gryffindor’,” she decided as she reluctantly smiled. “There’s also a chance that the speaker means the words, in which case they are, of course, more flattering and appealing to the ear than a more frequently used generalization.”

“You do realize that ‘pain in the arse’ is a highly appropriate and sincere description for you as well?” he pointed out with amusement at her thorough answer to his teasing question.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I imagine quite often.”

“Only on occasion, Diggory. Not everyone considers thoroughness a fault.”

“I would like to conduct an experiment about that, I think. Perhaps keep a tally and write up a report after my observations. I’d need unlimited access to you, of course; for observation purposes only. I think I’ll entitle the report ‘Brilliant Beautiful Smart Arse Brunettes and the Way the World Sees Them’. You’d be my only test subject, true, but there are some sacrifices that must be made for the sake of knowledge,” he declared with a dramatic sigh.

“Unlimited access? I see. So I’m to agree simply for the sake of science?”

“You do love to learn, Granger. I’d think of it as your opportunity to put a little back into the academic world at large. My experiment could very well be groundbreaking in terms of communication and the public’s perception of confident, beautiful, intelligent women who happen to be former Gryffindors.”

She tried to keep a straight face but met his gaze and that was that. She started to laugh, shaking her head as she attempted to glare at him. “And you call me the smart arse?”

“You should do that more often,” he decided as they continued their walk to the village.

“What? Call you a smart arse? I think that can be arranged,” she said with just a hint of cheek. 

“Brat,” he accused playfully. “No, you should laugh, as you well know. I like hearing you laugh.”

“Is it the slight snort that appeals to you or the my inability to laugh quietly when I’m really amused?”

“While the snort is rather attractive, it’s actually the way you just let go and enjoy the moment. Not many women do that, you know? Perhaps I should have another experiment once I conclude my observations of you for communication and perception. I could call that one ‘Hermione Granger: Perfect Woman’, though the title is a bit biased.”

“Perhaps ‘Far From Perfect Woman’ is more suitable,” she suggested as she looked down at the road and tried to figure out how to handle such teasing. Men didn’t flirt with her and they certainly didn’t casually make comments about her being beautiful or having a nice laugh. Cedric said everything with a quiet certainty as if it was truth instead of merely him most likely amusing himself by flirting with someone he could fluster with such attention.

“Perhaps an addition of ‘My’ in there somewhere, though then it would be more along the lines of wishful thinking,” he said thoughtfully as his thumb rubbed her knuckles before he chewed on his lip and shook his head slightly. Before she had a chance to question that rather cryptic statement, he bumped his hip against hers. “No, we do not have a monthly newsletter for Hufflepuff, though I’m really surprised that Susan hasn’t arranged something like that. She’s always organizing reunion dinners. That’s how I know most of the younger years so well, you know?”

“Gryffindor seems to have an impromptu reunion every little bit with a wedding, birthday, baby birth, anniversary, or simply Seamus deciding to throw a party to see who can drink the most firewhisky and that he can convince to do some sort of wild action for us to all laugh over for years to come,” she told him, deciding that it would be best to follow his lead and change the subject to something familiar. While she was rather accustomed to his flirting with her and could actually flirt back reasonably well, it felt different today for some unknown reason. 

Cedric grinned. “You Gryffindors are such party animals.”

“You have the Weasley twins, Seamus Finnegan, and Alicia Spinnet in your House and Hufflepuff would be, too.” She laughed and nudged him back with her hip. “I must admit, though, that I rarely have more than one glass of wine because I’m not fond of the taste of most alcohol so I’m fortunate that they’ve not revoked my former Gryffindor status.”

By the time they reached town, the awkward and flustering moment was nearly forgotten. She couldn’t forget completely as it had been somewhat intriguing and she wanted to analyze it at some future date but, for now, she chalked it up to Cedric being a charming flirt and nothing more. 

“Where do we start, Granger?” he asked as they reached Derbanshire. 

“I believe Pansy said they received confirmation from 68 of the 75 people so I’d suggest considering 100 as there will probably be more guests than expected. With Harry as the groom, I’m afraid that people will be more eager to attend just for the bragging rights if nothing else. Fortunately, we were able to put up some very strong wards so only those guests with an invitation will be allowed admittance so that should keep out the reporters.”

“Yeah, Potter also said that Crabbe volunteered to take the invitations so there’s less chance of anyone trying to get past him. That man is bloody huge,” Cedric said with just a hint of awe at Crabbe’s very muscular albeit not very tall stature. “I’d certainly not risk his displeasure at trying to sneak past him, that’s for sure.”

“It’s a good thing that they don’t realize he’s actually a bit of a teddy bear,” she admitted with a grin. “I might see if Dean will help him out with that, actually. Crabbe might be more inclined to not want to risk a confrontation but Dean has no problem getting forceful if necessary.”

“The wards should keep most unwelcome visitors away, but it’s always good to have a back-up plan,” he agreed as he smiled at her planning in a way that seemed more approving than most of her friends were about her bossiness and need to think of many angles and possibilities instead of just the most likely. “So we have to get enough food to satisfy 100 guests?”

Hermione nodded as she headed to the nearest café. She didn’t even realize she was still holding his hand until his grip tightened on her hand to get her to slow down. “Pansy had wanted some sort of poultry or fish for the reception and Harry doesn’t care as long as it’s edible. I know it’s going to be difficult to find enough food at this short notice, but we might be able to split up the locations and choices so we accomplish the task We still have a few hours before the wedding is scheduled to start, thankfully.”

“We can do it, Granger,” Cedric told her as he followed her into the first café. She did her best to ignore how nice it was to hear ‘we’ instead of ‘you’. They left nearly a half hour later with a new contract signed and a promise that servings of chicken, two vegetables, and bread for roughly thirty people would be delivered to the inn within an hour. 

“I didn’t think she was ever going to just let me sign the contract so we could leave,” Hermione murmured as they stepped back outside. She tugged up her dress and smiled. “I’m glad Pansy agreed to have the ceremony at a Muggle inn or we’d really have been out of luck.”

“You could have always Apparated to Hogwarts and borrowed a few House Elves,” he mused. He laughed at her expression and ran his hands through his hair before he took her hand and tugged her towards the other café. 

“Infuriating,” she told him firmly as she took his hand and followed him. “Don’t even get me started on House Elves, Diggory. I may have reluctantly accepted that they don’t want to be free, but that doesn’t mean I support or encourage the practice. You don’t have House Elves, do you?”

“Nary a one,” he said as he looked at her. “You see, this exasperating young woman made me realize years ago that the practice might very well be outdated and unfair.”

“Well, you’re the only one who listened.” She couldn’t help but smile at his admission, far more pleased than she should be that he’d obviously listened to her when she’d started S.P.E.W. so many years ago. That was a source of ridicule from even Harry and Ron, who failed to understand why she’d had to try even if it had been hopeless. She could recognize now that the effort was meant well but that some creatures just didn’t view the world like she did so it wasn’t fair to force her ideals on them. However, she still hated that no one had seemed to take her seriously, except maybe Cedric.

“It was a good attempt, Granger, but there are some things that just take awhile to change or never actually change. You have to choose which battles are worth fighting for,” he said with a shrug. “I admired you for the effort, back then, and now it’s nice to watch your cheeks turn that lovely shade of pink when I compliment you on it.”

“Diggory,” she warned as her cheeks turned even pinker from his attention and the way his hand felt around hers. She was relieved when they arrived at the door of the café. He opened it for her and only released her hand when they walked inside. It only took ten minutes to arrange for food to be sent to the inn, enough for another fifty people if not slightly more. Pansy was just going to have to deal with beef as this café had promised to send chicken and roast along with a variety of vegetables and bread. 

“That’s not enough, is it?” Cedric asked when they left the café and he noticed her thoughtful expression. 

“Well, they’re large portions and between the two places, it should be enough to feed eighty to eighty-five people. That’s more than enough for the guests we expect but I wouldn’t mind having a bit extra,” she admitted as she rubbed the back of her neck. 

“I’d bet that one or two of the pubs probably have some fish and chips on hand,” he suggested. “Not exactly fancy cuisine but the fish could be eaten with some of the vegetables and we could stop at the market to get some extra bread to heat up.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” she told him. She leaned up and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought about the pubs having food.”

“You know, it was actually a brilliant idea,” he drawled as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I think it deserves at least one more kiss.”

“Incorrigible,” she muttered as she rolled her eyes and smiled. 

“It was worth a try.” He winked and led her to one of the pubs. “I can cook but rarely do because it’s just for me and I hate cooking for one person so I’m pretty knowledgeable about take-away from pubs. The one closest to my flat won’t let you buy everything as take-away but they’ve got an okay selection. Fish and chips is somewhat a standard at most as are sandwiches and shepherd’s pie.”

“See, I make enough for two people and just freeze the leftovers to take for lunch the next day or to have another night,” she told him. “I couldn’t stand living on pub food all the time. It makes for a nice treat on Friday evenings to get take-away but I like to cook, even when it’s only for myself. Of course, if I have too many leftovers or make too much, I know I can always owl Ron and he’ll happily stop by to take them off my hands.”

“I suppose I should try that,” he decided. “Not having Weasley eat my leftovers but the other. Of course, it would make more sense to just find someone to cook for so there weren’t any leftovers.”

“Perhaps you could place an advert in the Prophet,” she suggested helpfully, a smile on her lips when he laughed. “I know a great many people who would answer that advert.”

“I don’t know,” he drawled as he maneuvered them around a wet puddle. “I can be quite picky about who I cook for so I’m afraid there wouldn’t be many people who applied and certainly not many I’d actually consider cooking for. I’ll have to cook something for you some time.”

“Maybe you should consider lowering your standards and you’d have more of a selection of possibly guests,” she offered, rather pleased he’d mentioned cooking for her even if it was probably just him being polite. She raised the skirt of her dress slightly to walk down the few stairs into the pub when they entered. 

“I’ve no intention of doing that, Granger,” he informed her as his fingers lightly trailed up her arm to eventually push her hair away from her neck, “anymore than you’d lower your own.”

“Touche,” she retorted as she looked up at him and smiled. Their gazes met for a moment and she felt as if someone had punched her in the belly, which made no sense at all to her. Before she could analyze that odd sensation, a boisterous voice greeted them from behind the bar and they both looked towards the man who had spoken. 

The negotiations with the pub didn’t take very long. Cedric paid for the order of fish and added a little extra so it would be delivered to the inn because the owner didn’t want to hassle with a contract and paperwork. She’d have to remember to reimburse him when they got back to the inn. After they left the pub, they began a conversation about the various weddings they’d attended during the past few years: reminiscing and laughing as the charged moment of awareness at the pub was ignored by both of them. 

A stop at the market resulted in a brief pause in comfortable conversation and two bags of bread products to heat for the reception. They picked up their conversation easily during the walk back to the inn. Her shoes, while pretty and perfectly matched to her dress, were not the best for walking so she was glad they were headed back so she could take them off and rest her feet for a bit. 

This meant, however, that she was walking slower and they set a more languid pace as they fell into easy conversation that wasn’t void of the gentle teasing and flirting that had become common between them. Hermione didn’t even realize she had reached for his hand until their hands met in the middle of the space between them, their fingers entwining casually as they walked away from Derbanshire. 

When he laughed at her recollection of Seamus being the worst of any ‘bride’ she’d dealt with, she admired the way the sun caught the highlights in his hair and the way he just relaxed and enjoyed the moment when he laughed. She noticed that his eyes seemed an even lighter shade of gray when he was amused and that they seemed to darken just slightly when he looked at her a certain way that left her heart racing and her cheeks flushed. 

She knew she was treading dangerous waters that she had no idea how to properly navigate and that she should head to safety before she was in over her head. Flirting at a party was one thing. Hand holding, shared laughter, teasing and flirting in the way that left her flustered, flattered, confused, and intrigued was quite another. This was unfamiliar ground and she couldn’t help but get the impression that it was new to him, too, which made it a little better. 

“If we go much slower, the wedding may be over by the time we get there,” he observed during a lull in conversation.

“You try wearing these shoes and see how many hikes you’re making,” she replied as she was pulled from her thoughts. 

“I think they’re too small for me,” he confessed with a cheeky grin. “Besides, peach isn’t really my color.”

“Should I ask how you’d know what color of women’s shoes would best suit you?” she asked with an arched brow and smirk.

“We all have secrets, Granger,” he informed her loftily. He winked. “However, crossdressing _isn’t_ one of mine so you’ll not have to worry about me trying to borrow your clothes.”

“Now you have me intrigued, Diggory. What possible secrets do you have?” 

“If I told you, they’d not be secrets anymore.”

“Logic will not sway me from my curiosity. They’d simply be shared secrets then.”

“Whine all you want, Granger. I’m not going to tell you a single one right now,” he vowed dramatically as they reached the road that led to the inn. 

“I don’t whine,” she denied emphatically. “I merely expressed interest in discovering what possible secrets Cedric Diggory might have.”

“Perhaps you should conduct an experiment,” he suggested with a smile. “I’d happily let you observe me anywhere and any way you wanted, Granger; all in the interest of science, of course.”

“Oh, of course. You’re dedication to the field of human behavior is commendable, Diggory,” she decided as she rolled her eyes. 

“Not human behavior,” he corrected as he stopped walking and looked at her. “Dedication to the field of Hermione Granger is more appropriate and if you call me infuriating, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Hermione smiled even as she was somewhat flustered by his obviously teasing words. “Infuriating.”

“I warned you, Granger,” he reminded her as he moved suddenly. 

“Diggory! Damn it, put me down,” she exclaimed as she found herself cradled in his arms. Her dress fell up past her knees and she had to tug on the bodice to keep from falling out of it. He carried her as if she weighed no more than a feather, a smug smile on his full lips as he ignored her protests. 

“Your shoes are a device of torture, I’ve decided, so what sort of man would I be if I just stood by while they did their work on your poor defenseless feet?” he asked. “Stop wiggling, Granger. I’m not putting you down until we get back to the inn and all you’ll accomplish is distracting me with your womanly wiles.”

“Womanly wiles?” she repeated with a snort as she looked at the scar on his chin and stopped wiggling, just in case. He was proving to be entirely too unpredictable, which was a surprise since she’d never really seen him act this spontaneous and impulsive before.

“It’s a perfectly good description and far classier than things most blokes might say,” he defended as he glanced down at her and smiled. “I’m a very classy guy, Granger.”

“Hmph,” she retorted, unable to actually argue with that statement. She’d never admit it, either, but she rather liked being carried like this by him and it was certainly helping her feet, which had decided that Cedric was, indeed, their hero. 

“You know, Granger, you’ve got great legs,” he declared as he playfully leered at the legs in question. 

“You know, Diggory, you’ve got great shoulders,” she replied with a little leer of her own, pleased when his cheeks flushed at her compliment and he suddenly looked less charming and smooth and far more shy and rather adorable. She gripped his shoulders as he carried her down the rock path towards the inn. She had to smile at having flustered him for once and felt rather smug.

When he looked down at her with a lock of hair across his forehead and a sheepish smile on his lips, cheeks flushed and his eyes a darker gray as he shifted her weight in his arms, she was surprised to realize that being in over her head might not be a bad thing at all, especially if Cedric was there with her.


	5. Perfect Timing

There was an ethereal quality to Luna Weasley that Hermione always seemed to notice whenever she paid much attention to her former boyfriend’s wife. She would like to consider her just Luna, but a slight nagging voice always seemed to add that tag, as if reminding her she could have been Ron’s wife even though they both knew such a situation would never have worked out. 

First love, first boyfriend, first time having sex---Ron was so many of her firsts that she rather thought that mental label might remain until they both died. She didn’t really mind, though, and he seemed to have the same mental label to her so it was something they laughed about and could tease about. Luna understood and accepted their close relationship, thankfully, and knew Hermione wasn’t a threat at all. 

When she and Cedric made it up the little hill beside the inn, Hermione was distracted from her covert looks at Cedric’s face, which was far too close when he carried her for her to actually ignore, by the sight of the tiny blonde at the edge of the path. Pansy had chosen a soft butter yellow for Luna’s dress that complimented her pale features and blonde hair beautifully. It was further proof, to Hermione, that Ginny’s awful pink dress was entirely deliberate. Luna was staring at the sky, her long blonde hair neatly arranged in a plait that made Hermione rather envious, and it appeared she was holding apples in both hands.

“What’s that all about?” Cedric whispered against her face, his breath warm as it touched her skin. She couldn’t stop the slightly shiver she felt from the closeness.

“I’ve no idea,” she whispered back, turning her head slightly to look at him. Her eyes widened when she found that he’d not yet raised his face and that it would just take one slight movement forward for their lips to tou---

“The sky is a lovely shade of blue,” Luna’s dreamy voice interrupted Hermione’s very inappropriate thoughts and Cedric nearly dropped her when he startled at hearing Luna.

She was thankful that Cedric had pretty good reflexes as she really didn’t want to end up on her arse on the ground before the ceremony. Hermione looked at Luna and then looked at the sky, trying to get her mindset into Luna-Speak, which was difficult even when her mind was clear and she could focus. Today, she didn’t have a chance of following Luna-Logic since she was preoccupied with the strong arms currently holding her and the scent of Cedric that seemed determined to tempt her to lick his neck to see if he tasted of lemons. _Stop it_ , she scolded.

“Yes, it is quite nice,” she finally said. 

“They say that a sky this shade means a long and prosperous marriage,” Luna confided in the tone that could almost lure one to sleep if they listened for too long. Hermione wasn’t really sure how Ron managed to stay away when Luna spoke in that pretty melodious tone.

“Who is they?” Cedric asked curiously, obviously not aware that you don’t ask those sorts of questions. Hermione tried to give him a warning pinch on the arm but that only caused him to smirk down at her and wink rather saucily. 

Could one’s wink be saucy? Hermione was learning something new constantly this afternoon, it seemed.

“They,” Luna said simply as if it was the answer to all the questions ever asked, not looking away from the sky to give him the ‘you’re not really bright, are you?’ look that Hermione knew Luna would probably have on her face at what she considered a silly question.

“Oh,” Cedric replied and Hermione gave him a pitying look as she patted his shoulder. Poor guy just didn’t know any better. Then he went and smiled mischievously, which was actually rather disturbingly sexy she couldn’t fail to notice, and carried her closer. “And what do they say that shade means if a bloke is trying to impress a girl he likes?”

Hermione gaped at him, not entirely certain if he was simply humoring Luna, which was rather sweet, or if he might mean, well, no, she couldn’t consider _that_ if she wanted to make it through today without becoming even more flustered and awkward.

Luna laughed, a soft twinkling sound that used to grate on Hermione’s nerves when they’d first met and she’d failed to understand the appeal of Luna and her oddness but now was somewhat calming to Hermione’s racing heartbeat and curious stare at Cedric’s scarred chin. “They say that the timing is perfect but those darker shades just right there,” Luna pointed near the clouds, “mean that he’d better be sincere or there will be much pain in his future.”

“Pain isn’t good,” Cedric said seriously as he stared at the sky with a slight smile on his lips. Even his throat was rather sexy, Hermione realized in disgust.

“Neither is insincerity,” Luna pointed out as she moved her hand above her head and seemed to trace a design in the sky. “Fortunately, the clouds seem to accept the shading so it’s a wonderful day for impressing stubborn objects of affection. I imagine the bride will be a mother by this time next year. They say the fluffy clouds predict a fertile union.”

“Luna, why are we out here staring at the clouds?” she asked as she tried to get some sort of control of the conversation before she actually started to believe the nonsense Luna was discussing. 

“Because you can’t see the sky inside,” Luna told her in a ‘you’re so silly’ tone. Luna’s smirk was obvious even as her head remained tilted back. “Why are you being carried? Did you hurt yourself or did you just get lazy?”

“I needed a bit of exercise,” Cedric told her smoothly. “I saw all those delicious desserts instead and knew I’d not be able to eat just one and I certainly can’t eat a half dozen and let them all go to my hips and arse, can I? Carrying Hermione is much more enjoyable an exercise than doing a bit of jogging.”

“Do you know what they say the most enjoyable exercise is? Ronald and I follow that exercise regime rather closely, actually. They say that se---”

“Oh, look,” Hermione suddenly interrupted as quickly as possible as her cheeks turned bright red and she promised to spoil Ron’s children to a point that they were never off a sugar high, “the, uh, sun is pretty like that. Right, the sun.”

“She’s not very good at changing the subject, is she?” Cedric asked in a loud whisper as he winked at Hermione. 

“Well, she can’t be good at everything or she’d not be our Hermione,” Luna decided after a moment of sky contemplation. “The sun actually does look lovely there. Do you know this area of Divination, Hermione? It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”

“I’m very good at changing the subject, Diggory,” Hermione grumbled as she ‘accidentally’ let her elbow make contact with his chest. “Luna, you know my thoughts on all forms of Divination.”

“Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there,” Luna reminded her. “You, more than others, have such a problem not seeing what is right there in front of your face. Ronald often says you are the most stubborn person he’s ever met and I believe he’s accurate in that description.”

“I don’t think that’s stubbornness,” Cedric said thoughtfully. “I think it’s just an inability to trust or believe things based on emotions and feelings, which is common for those who thrive on logic and tangible proof.”

Luna looked away from the sky and stared at Cedric for a moment before she smiled. She raised her hand and ruffled his hair, patting his cheek as she laughed. “I do believe you’re one to keep, Cedric Diggory.”

“Somehow I doubt _Ronald_ would appreciate you keeping him,” Hermione pointed out without any hint of jealousy. No, of course she wasn’t jealous. Luna was married, after all, and Cedric had been flirting with _her_ all day. It was just her annoyance at trying to understand Luna that made her words slightly sharp. 

“Oh, he’s not meant for me, Hermione,” Luna said with an airy smile. She motioned to the sky. “They say good things come to those who wait and that patience may finally be rewarded.”

“And here I thought it was just a Muggle cliché that said those things,” Hermione muttered just as Cedric interrupted Luna’s latest ramblings.

“While it is a very pretty day, maybe there has been enough looking at the sky,” Cedric said smoothly, his cheeks slightly pink as he gave Luna a look that caught Hermione’s interest. 

“You don’t want to go inside,” Luna confided as she blinked at them both. “He’s trying to steal all the apples. I saved these two, but, alas, I was too late to save the majority.”

“What?” Hermione frowned as she shifted in Cedric’s arms. When she felt his bare hand against her thigh, she realized that he was still holding her. She nudged him and ignored her reluctance as she whispered, “You can put me down now.”

“No,” he whispered back as he almost tightened his grip, his finger lightly stroking her leg in a way that was very much to blame for her sudden racing heart, flushed cheeks, and inability to breathe without reminding herself to take a breath. He smirked slightly without even looking down at her, keeping his attention on Luna. “Who is stealing apples?”

“That man,” Luna told them. “He’s got some sort of apple fetish, I believe. It’s really quite disturbing. What did the poor apples ever do to him?”

“Luna, what man?” Hermione focused and spoke clearly and distinctly. 

“The round one with the sweaty face,” Luna replied as she turned her pale gaze to Hermione and blinked several times. “He’s meant to marry them but I don’t see how when he smells of liquor and keeps stealing the apples.”

“The justice of the peace?” Hermione cursed under her breath and didn’t even think about it when she rested her head against Cedric’s surprisingly strong shoulder and sighed. “I warned Pansy that he didn’t seem fit but she thought his white hair would look nice with the color scheme.”

“She chose the justice based on how well he fit into the color scheme?” Cedric asked in a slightly awed and somewhat frightened voice. “Poor Potter. I always knew he was a bit daft but this proves it.”

“Hey, she’s not that bad,” Hermione defended as she smacked his arm in the same place she had several times today. If he kept on, she’d bruise him with the amount of times he deserved a nice playful smack. She squealed and wiggled when he suddenly shifted his hand to pinch her bum, again. “Stop that, Diggory!”

“You started it,” he pointed out cheekily as he moved his hand back to a relatively safe position on her leg. The idea that she considered him touching her leg as safe was enough to make her almost get distracted from the current dilemma and analyze why he seemed to have such a fondness for her bum and when ‘safe’ meant Cedric’s bare hand on a part of her leg she rarely let anyone see much less touch. 

Luna cleared her throat and looked as if she were trying not to laugh when Hermione stopped staring at Cedric’s lips and glanced at her. “Do you suppose he’ll be able to complete the ceremony if he’s distracted by the apples?”

“What exactly is he doing with the apples?” Hermione asked hesitantly, not at all sure she wanted to know.

“He’s eating them, of course,” Luna said as she rolled her eyes. “What did you think he was doing with them?”

“Nevermind,” Hermione replied quickly. “So he’s stolen the apples and is eating them?”

“That’s what I said!” Luna shook her head. “Really, Hermione, you need to pay more attention. The round man smells of liquor and he stole the apples. He’s now seated in the sitting room eating the apples and looked rather sleepy when I decided to check the sky for advice.”

“If it’s not the food, it’s intoxicated justices,” she murmured as she reluctantly moved out of Cedric’s arms to stand on her own. He seemed unwilling to release her but finally did before he moved behind her and rested his chin on the top of her head. She hated when Ron did that and was pleased that Harry and Neville weren’t tall enough to follow Ron’s example. 

When Cedric did it, though, she felt rather conflicted. One on level, she was annoyed that he was nearly a head taller than her as she wasn’t very small or petite by any means, but, on another, it made her feel rather feminine for some odd reason. He wasn’t tall and stocky like Greg, or short and hugely muscular like Vince, but he was tall and slender with just enough muscle to make her hands itch to caress his arms and shoulders. 

“Luna, would you take these bags to the kitchen?” Cedric interrupted her thoughts of his body, which were not what she needed to be thinking about at the moment at all, and leaned forward to hand Luna the bags with the bread. “Find Ginny and see if she can get rid of the justice. We don’t need anyone else noticing that he’s pissed off his arse and fondling apples.”

“I can do that,” Luna said with an easy smile. “I like bread. Do I need to warm it, too? I love smelling it heat.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Cedric said after a moment of hesitancy while he probably wondered if it was smart to let Luna near an oven. 

“Wait,” Hermione spoke up as she moved forward so she could get away from his distracting Cedric-ness and focus. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to find another justice, of course,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, you think it’s going to be that easy?” she asked as she put her hands on her hips after another tug to the pretty but dangerous for possible cleavage baring dress. “I can go back to town and see if they have anyone suitable, I guess.”

“You know, you really need to let someone else help occasionally,” he told her as their gazes met. “You don’t have to do everything yourself, Granger. Besides, how can I possibly impress you when you won’t let me play hero some time?”

“You don’t have to play hero to impress me, Diggory,” she pointed out a bit more quietly and not nearly as firmly as she’d intended. 

“Maybe I like playing your hero,” he said with a crooked smile before his face took on a serious expression. “Trust me, Granger.”

She looked at his outstretched hand and suddenly found a need to fiddle with the flower on her dress as the moment became far less about teasing and more about something she didn’t really understand fully. She finally straightened her shoulders, got in touch with the Gryffindor within, and did something very unlike her. 

She took a chance.

Hermione put her hand in his and saw him visibly let out a breath she’d not realized he’d been holding as his fingers entwined with hers. She glanced at Luna, who was now looking at them in a similar way to how she’d been studying the sky. “Luna, we’re going to go find a new justice and we’ll be back soon. Just heat the bread and let Ginny get rid of the apple-fetisher. _Don’t_ tell Pansy or Harry, okay? We‘ll find someone and be back before they even have to realize there‘s a problem.”

“All right, Hermione,” Luna said as she smiled, the look in her eyes sharp and aware instead of dazed and dreamy even though her smile was still light and airy. “I’ll take care of things here. You and your Cedric go take care of the justice.”

Cedric grinned but didn’t say a word about Luna’s use of the possessive, showing that he was, at least, learning not to deliberately provoke her. “Come on, Granger. We’ll go get the justice and be back in time to make sure the food is arriving when they said.”

“Your optimism is rather annoying,” she told him with a slight smile. “Where, oh wise one, do you think we should go find a justice? The one Pansy hired was a squib so we could avoid any possible alarming moments, and I don’t foresee many of them placing adverts in the Daily Prophet. So that means we have to---”

“What did I tell you?” Cedric asked as placed his finger over her lips to get her to stop talking. Hermione’s voice trailed off as he dragged his finger down and traced her lips lightly before he suddenly cleared his throat and looked at the inn to see Luna safely making her way inside with the bags of bread. 

“You’ve told me a lot of things,” she pointed out in a voice that was actually breathless. Her, breathless? Oh God, Cedric Diggory was not good for her. Not good at all.

He looked back at her and she saw his gaze look at her lips as he ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture that was becoming somewhat familiar. Then he smirked and arched a brow. “Are you actually _listening_ to me, then?”

“I didn’t say that,” she told him loftily, a playful smile crossing her lips. “I simply said you’d been telling me.”

“Your words are sharp swords that wound my heart,” he declared as he gripped his chest and sighed dramatically as he looked at the sky. “They say you should be nicer to me. The sky knows everything, of course, so I‘d suggest obeying them.”

“Do they?” she drawled as she glanced at the sky and then back at him. “I don’t hear anything.”

“I think you just don’t want to listen or maybe they just like me more,” he told her smugly. “You know, if I wasn’t a complete gentleman, I could use this situation to my advantage.”

“What situation?”

“You need a justice. I happen to know where we might be able to find a justice. You see where I’m going with this?”

“I think even Ron could see where you’re going with this and he can be rather oblivious.”

“I knew there would be a time that my chivalry would turn around and bite me in the arse.”

“I imagine that being bitten on the arse wouldn’t be very pleasant and would make for awkward sitting.”

“Would you like to test that hypothesis? I happen to think you have a very delectable arse, Granger.”

“Diggory,” she squeaked as she stared at him, a bit surprised he’d just had the audacity to compliment her arse right after offering to bite it. 

“I was merely offering in the interest of knowledge, of course,” he explained with a very cheeky grin and wink. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I knew my courteous nature would end up one day making me wish I was dishonorable enough to suggest an exchange of a kiss for my knowledge about the justice.”

“If you found us a justice, I might be brazen enough to offer a kiss for the saving of my sanity by quickly solving yet another problem with this wedding,” Hermione teased in a way that wasn’t very common for her but felt rather nice at the moment. 

Cedric’s teasing smile faded and he blinked at her for a moment while he bit his lip, making the lower fullness seem even more pouty and puffy. “Y-you would?” he stammered finally, looking very much like a child at Christmas who sees a box shaped like the toy they most want but is a bit scared to open it in case it’s really just socks. That look from Cedric, while he was staring at her, was a bit disconcerting. 

“Maybe,” she said softly. 

“Right. Uh, well, um,” he babbled briefly before he grinned. “Come on, Granger. Let’s go pay a quick visit to my uncle Rodrick. He’s a justice, you know.”

Before she could reply to that announcement, he pulled her close and Apparated them away from the inn. Hermione was pleased to learn that Uncle Rodrick was free for the afternoon and would be pleased do a favor for his nephew. She ignored the calculating look in his uncle’s gaze as it shifted from her to Cedric and back again repeatedly during their discussion but did notice that Cedric seemed a bit flushed as he kept stealing looks at her. They had a cup of tea while Rodrick got dressed for the ceremony and she listened to Cedric babble in a rather adorable way about his favorite uncle. 

When it was time to leave, she again found herself pulled close to Cedric as he Disapparated them back to the inn. Uncle Rodrick went inside to find the loo and left her and Cedric near the garden. Cedric smiled at her and she couldn’t resist returning the smile as the air seemed to crackle around them with, well, things she shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

“Well, we have a justice now. Uncle Rodrick hates apples, by the way, so no worries there,” Cedric told her.

“Yes, we do,” she agreed as her gaze lingered on his lips. “I suppose that has earned you a kiss.”

Cedric shook his head and caught her before she could lean up to _finally_ kiss him. “No, not like this, Granger,” he said softly. “ _When_ we kiss the first time, it’s not going to be because of gratitude or some silly wager.”

“Oh,” she whispered, a bit annoyed that she’d actually found the courage to do something as bold as kiss the man who was making her rather crazy and confused right now and he didn’t want to kiss her. Then there was his promise, as that’s sure what it had been, of _when we kiss_ that made her tummy flip in a dozen different directions. 

“I’ve mentioned that I hate being a gentleman, huh?” he whispered as he smiled sheepishly. He raised his hand and brushed her wayward lock of hair back behind her ear where it didn’t seem to want to stay and his knuckles lightly touched her cheek. 

“Once or twice,” she said with a slight smile. She leaned up and brushed a kiss against his cheek, deciding it wasn’t the time to tell him that she happened to like gentlemen, especially ones with mischievous smiles and pretty eyes. She stepped back and took his hand. “Let’s go check on the food and see if your uncle found everything he needs.”

Cedric grinned and followed her back to the inn. “You know, Granger, there might be something to Luna’s theories and what they say about the sky knowing things, after all.”

“Really?” she asked as she glanced at him curiously, her fingers lightly touching his hand as he stroked the back of hers in a way that was becoming rather comfortable.

“Yeah,” he decided as he winked at her and led her inside. “I have to say that it’s a pretty wonderful day.”

Hermione met his gaze and smiled somewhat shyly. “You’re right, Diggory,” she agreed as she squeezed his hand gently. “It is, indeed, proving to be a very lovely day.”


	6. Pest Control

The sound of silence should have been the first sign that something was wrong. If she hadn’t been distracted by the handsome man beside her and, more specifically, by the feel of his hand holding hers, Hermione would have instantly been alert and prepared. 

As it was, they entered the inn hand in hand and she was pretty sure that their faces were flushed from sneaking glances at each other during the short walk from the garden into the lobby. Their gazes had met several times, quickly followed by sheepish smiles and pink cheeks and usually a cheeky wink from Cedric. 

She should have known that it was merely the calm before the storm.

When they stepped inside, Cedric leaned his head down and whispered, “I don’t know about you, Granger, but I think this is the best wedding I’ve attended by far.”

His words made her smile and she looked up at him, finally giving in to the temptation to brush that stray lock of hair away from his face. Before she could reply, a bright light flashed and she saw spots. 

“Tell me, Miss Granger. Is this simply a charade intended to convince Mister Potter to leave his bride and run off with you?”

The words were asked in a sharp, crisp tone with a hint of utter smugness that made Hermione’s blood boil. Cedric’s hand gripped her tighter when they both turned to look at the intrusion on their private moment. 

“Mister Diggory this time, is it? My, my. You _do_ have a fondness for the Champions, don’t you, Miss Granger? Should I warn Mister Weasley to keep his wife away from you or have you already been through the former Miss Delacour?”

“If you insist on slandering my best friend and sister-in-law’s names, I’ll not hesitate in hexing your arse back to whatever gutter you’ve crawled out of,” Ginny warned in a tone that was a bit too convincing.

A quick glance around the room told her exactly why it had been so quiet. Neville had a hold of Ginny, who looked as if she were ready to jump in with her wand zapping. Luna was standing next to a very rotund man who was eating an apple and watching the events with inebriated interest and Luna looked as if she were ready to stand right by Ginny should the need arise. Uncle Rodrick was lurking in an open doorway and looked as if he were ready to run for reinforcements if necessary. And, right in the middle of the chaos, was Rita Skeeter.

“Would you like that quoted, Mrs. Longbottom?” Rita asked smugly as her quill wrote rapidly in the air beside her. Her attention never wavered from Hermione, however. “Well, Miss Granger. No outraged words in your defense? My readers are just _dying_ to know how the other woman feels about seeing her childhood sweetheart marry another.”

“I’d suggest that you hire a new fact checker, Miss Skeeter,” Hermione informed her coolly. “I would so hate to bring charges against you for libel and slander should you actually print such ridiculous lies.”

“Go on record that Miss Granger denies that she and Mister Potter used to be an item and then proceeded to threaten me,” Rita said clearly to her quill. 

“The only record you’re going to go on is the one about the most hexed bitch in history,” Ginny spoke up before she glared at Neville. “No, I will not shut up!”

“I won’t go,” the intoxicated man suddenly spoke up as he tossed a half-eaten apple core onto the floor. “I’ve been hired!”

“Tell me, Sir. Did Miss Granger fire you so that the wedding would be ruined? My readers want to hear your story.”

“Fired me, they did! This one keeps taking my apples and says I’ve got to go home,” he bemoaned his fate with enough dramatic inflection that Hermione wondered if he’d been an actor simply posing as a justice.

“No more apples for you,” Luna told the man as she reached for one he had managed to grab. She looked at Rita and frowned. “Get that quill away from me. It’s obviously infected with lorgles. I know how to remove lorgles, of course, but I’d _hate_ for you to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Oh God,” Hermione whispered as she looked from Ginny and Neville, who were now having a heated discussion, to Luna who was rambling on about infected quills to the drunk man happily eating another apple.

Give her food to locate, brides to comfort, or even justices to replace and she was fully capable. Put her into a room with _that woman_ and she was suddenly a fifteen year-old who was being gossiped about in the worst ways ever with an interest in revenge and retaliation. She had to gain some sort of control of the situation or Skeeter would have enough to try to ruin the wedding and everyone involved in that trashy magazine she wrote for now. 

“Enough.” A low but firm voice spoke from beside her. 

The room was instantly silent again and everyone turned to look at Cedric, including her. It was one of the few times she’d ever heard him get angry. Unlike most of the men she knew who got louder when they were upset, Cedric seemed to become quiet and forceful. One word spoken in _that_ tone was enough to make most people realize they’d better pay attention and proved far more effective than loud yelling. 

“Mister Diggory, how do you feel about being used by Miss Granger in her scheme to get Mister Potter all to herself?” Rita asked after a quick recovery, refusing to give up what she considered a juice bit of story.

“Ginny, you and Neville go check on the food. It should be arriving by now,” Cedric told them in a very authoritative voice that Hermione was somewhat surprised to discover she found rather arousing. “Uncle Rodrick, please help Luna get that man back to his home so he can sleep it off.”

“Does he have more apples?” the justice asked Luna when Uncle Rodrick stepped towards them. 

“Yes, he owns an apple orchard, in fact,” Luna lied in an airy tone that was believed as well as rather forgivable.

“What is his deal with apples?” Ginny muttered as she glared at Rita but reluctantly allowed Neville to steer her from the room. 

“I’ve read that there are some liquors as well as some plants that increase a desire for certain types of acids in the system. Apples happen to be one of the most easily accessed forms of one of those acids,” Neville explained to his wife as he managed to get her wand away from her.

Hermione noticed that everyone had stopped to listen to that explanation and would have laughed if Rita Skeeter hadn’t still been standing there wearing the most ostentatious hat ever imagined complete with feathers and some sort of sparkly glitter. The reporter’s attention focused on Hermione and Cedric in a predatory way that had Hermione having to resist getting her wand out and carrying through on one of those hexes that Ginny had threatened.

As if he could sense her thoughts, Cedric squeezed her hand, an action that didn’t fail to go unnoticed by beedy eyes that narrowed behind tinted spectacles. Another bright flash caused more spots and Hermione glared at the floating camera that was angled at their joined hands. 

“Miss Granger, you do get around, don’t you?” Rita Skeeter said in a tone that was almost complimentary and made Hermione feel rather disgusted. 

“Miss Skeeter, I would suggest that you cease in making such allegations towards Miss Granger’s character,” Cedric said calmly. Hermione was suddenly reminded of her first meeting as a Prefect when Cedric had been Head Boy. He’d commanded the room with a quiet authority that everyone, even Slytherin, had respected and adhered to. 

“Isn’t this romantic?” Rita drawled in an obnoxious voice that suggested romance was equivalent with flobberworms in her estimation. “The other man steps up to defend the honor of the trollop who is simply using him to disrupt the wedding.”

Cedric’s grip tightened on her hand and she noticed a nerve in his cheek seem to pulse as he stared at Skeeter. “The only one disrupting this wedding is you with your lies and bitter personal attacks,” Hermione spoke up before he said something rash that might prove damaging to him. She knew how Rita worked, after all, and didn’t want Cedric to be the target of the poisoned quill, so to speak.

 

“This isn’t personal, Miss Granger. This is _news_ ,” Rita said smugly as she studied them both. “Oh, wait. I’ve got it all wrong, don’t I? Ah, even better! My readers will love this twist, of course. Mister Diggory, just how long have you been planning to steal away Miss Granger from Mister Potter? How dare you have the lack of decency to show your faces here knowing what you’d done to the poor boy?”

“Actually, Skeeter, you still keep getting it wrong. I’d have thought you’d have gotten better over the years but it seems I’m wrong.”

Hermione turned and growled when a sudden flash erupted around them. “Harry, go back to your room. We’re taking care of this.”

“I could hear her shrill voice all the way down the hall. And, no, I won’t go back to my room, Hermione.” Harry winked at her and nodded at Cedric, though she noticed his gaze narrowed when he saw how close she was standing to Cedric and the fact they were holding hands. He glanced at her and gave her a very distinct ‘We’re talking later’ look before he turned his attention to a rather unattractively sputtering Rita Skeeter. 

“Potter, this woman has arrived without an invitation and proceeded to insult your guests, in particular Miss Granger,” Cedric spoke up before he looked at the quill to make sure it was documenting everything.

“And what is it that I keep getting wrong, Mister Potter?” Rita asked eagerly, practically salivating at the thought of getting a personal quote from the Harry Potter.

“There aren’t any love triangles,” Harry said bluntly before he suddenly grinned the same mischievous smile that had resulted in plenty of mishaps throughout the years. Hermione almost groaned when she saw that smile and knew, just knew, this wasn’t about to get better. Her fear was confirmed when he continued to speak. “It’s an orgy, of course.”

“Harry!” Hermione squeaked as her cheeks turned red. She elbowed Cedric when she heard him trying not to laugh at the shocked expression on Rita Skeeter’s face, which was actually quite amusing. 

“It’s okay, Hermione. I think it’s time we all went public,” Harry told her as he pushed his spectacles up and sighed dramatically. Pansy was a horrible influence on him, Hermione decided in that moment. Harry would have blushed and stammered and never been able to say such a thing even jokingly before he’d gotten involved with the bold and rather daring Pansy. 

“An _orgy_?” Rita gawked and looked from one to the other. She suddenly frowned. “I don’t appreciate being made a fool of, Mister Potter.”

“Would I ever do such a thing, Miss Skeeter?” Harry asked in mock outrage. “You see, it’s the best solution to our problem. That way, we don’t actually have to choose. We can just have wild kinky sex every week without all the jealousy and hurt feelings.”

“I can’t print that!” Rita said shrilly as she motioned for her quill to stop writing. “This is obviously a diversion because there really is a story. Tell me, Mister Potter. Are you only marrying Miss Parkinson because Miss Granger left you for Mister Diggory? Were you hurt when your alleged best friend dumped you for your former competition?”

“Actually, you won’t be printing anything,” Harry said as his amusement faded. “If I see so much as one word about Hermione or any of my guests in that column of yours, I’ll make sure you never write again. You will leave your notebook and that camera here and you’ll not speak a word of anything you’ve seen or heard here today to anyone. Do you understand?”

“You can’t do that,” Rita said smugly though it was definitely false bravado. 

Harry stepped forward and Hermione resisted the urge to go stand beside him in case he needed her, knowing she could reach him if necessary and that he’d not want her involved. He was dressed for the wedding: his tuxedo was black and his shirt was a nice contrasting bright white. She almost smiled when she saw he was wearing the tie that she and Ron had given him to wear, a blue one she’d stolen from her father because even a groom deserved something borrowed, old, and blue to match his new formal attire. 

“Would you like to test me, Miss Skeeter?” Harry asked casually. “You come into my wedding uninvited and stand there accusing my best friend, my sister in every way save for blood, of being a manipulative trollop and then, not yet content with your attempts to create drama, you involve another good friend because he had the bollocks to defend Hermione. Insulting Hermione is a bad enough offense that I have no qualms in doing whatever it takes to remove you from my wedding.”

“I’m sure that Miss Parkinson would be thrilled that you’re willing to go to such great lengths to protect Miss Granger’s honor,” Rita suggested in a tone that was absolutely filthy with meaning. Hermione looked at Cedric and saw that he was watching the situation carefully and that he had his wand in his hand just in case. 

“Miss Parkinson would simply wonder why the annoying prat hadn’t already hexed you and kicked your arse out of our wedding by now,” Pansy said as she entered the lobby. She had a very ugly floral robe over her dress and still managed to look very pretty as she glided across the floor straight to Harry and Rita. “You do know how stressful a wedding is, Skeeter? It is enough to make one act out in fits of temporary insanity when one is disturbed by gossip-hungry vile bitches.”

“Pansy, I’m taking care of this,” Harry told her in a whisper.

“No, I’m taking care of this,” Pansy whispered back. “And stop trying to see my dress!”

“I wasn’t!” Harry denied even as he blushed and looked away at getting caught. 

“Should we do something?” Cedric asked in a soft murmur against her ear.

“Stand back and watch the show?” she muttered as she turned and looked at him, smiling slightly before she focused back on Harry and the others. 

“You take the quill and camera,” Pansy told Harry in a tone very akin to Hermione’s own bossiest ‘do what I say, now’ tone. Harry, well trained after being friends with Hermione since he was eleven, had adapted easily to Pansy’s nature and instantly reached for the quill. “I’ve got Skeeter.”

“Now, Miss Parkinson,” Rita hastily began to speak. 

“I’m a Slytherin, Skeeter. Nothing you say matters to me. Just be glad that I’m in a generous mood because it’s my wedding or they’d never find your body. You don’t insult _my_ bridesmaid and get away with it. _Obliviate_.”

“Pansy!” Harry gawked at her as he held the quill and camera. He grinned as he walked towards her and kissed her hard. “God, I love you.”

“You’d better,” Pansy replied smugly. “Now finish her off, Harry.”

Harry winked at Hermione. “Where should we send her?”

“I could give you a few suggestions,” Cedric muttered as he glared at Rita. 

“Send her to Australia. They’re having a lot of issues with international visitors and will detain her for traveling without her papers,” Hermione suggested, wondering if she should feel guilty for actually participating in this before she remembered that it was Rita Skeeter. 

Harry nodded and made the portkey using the awful hat Rita was wearing. Within minutes, Rita was stirring from the memory charm but she disappeared from the lobby before she had a chance to see any of them. Harry turned to look at them. “Diggory, I trust that this is our secret.”

“I didn’t see anything,” Cedric told him firmly. 

“Hermione, I’ll be in my room and I anticipate lots of fawning over this,” Pansy informed her as she pulled the awful robe around her and smiled. “Diggory, you look very handsome today.”

“Stop drooling over my groomsman,” Harry told her as he rolled his eyes and grinned. “I’ll take my bride back to her room, Hermione. I’ll leave Diggory in your care.” He led Pansy from the lobby back to their rooms and Hermione doubted they’d make it back without snogging every few steps. 

“Remind me to never irritate Parkinson,” Cedric said after Pansy and Harry had gone. “She’s just a bit too free with that _obliviate_.”

“She’s hated Rita Skeeter since that article in Witch Weekly a couple of years ago that outed Lisa Turpin. Pansy and Lisa are good friends and, well, Lisa didn’t react well to having her sexual life displayed for anyone with a few knuts that bought that trashy magazine,” Hermione explained in Pansy’s defense. 

“I didn’t mean it was a bad thing, Granger,” Cedric told her. “I’m glad they interrupted, actually, because I was close to losing my temper.”

“Skeeter has had it in for me for years,” Hermione said with a shrug. “I can usually ignore it but I hate when she tries to bring in other people I care about. I should have expected her to try to get into the wedding but didn’t think to strengthen the wards to keep her skinny beetle arse out.” 

“You okay?” he asked softly as he looked pointedly at her tense shoulders. 

“I’ll be fine, Diggory,” she assured him. “Thankfully, there’s less than an hour until the ceremony. The reception will be fine because everyone will probably be too pissed to notice if anything is wrong.”

“Here, let me,” he offered as he finally released her hand and moved his hands to her shoulders. Hermione tensed even more at the feel of his warm skin against hers but for entirely different reasons than dealing with Skeeter. “Just relax, Granger. It’s been a pretty stressful afternoon and it’s not often I can show off my Quidditch-honed massage techniques.”

She sighed when he began to rub her shoulders, reaching back to pull her hair over her shoulder. “Qudditch-honed, huh?”

“Well, somewhat,” he replied as he worked his thumb deep into her skin. “I’ve only used it on sore legs before, my own in case you were curious, but it’s close enough; though I must admit that my legs don’t compare at all to your shoulders and back.”

“Are you flirting with me, Diggory?” she asked lazily.

“Maybe,” he drawled in a way that made her know he was smiling that smile again, _her_ smile. “Is it working?”

“Maybe,” she replied before she moaned as his fingers moved over her shoulderblades. His hands stilled and she heard him inhale sharply before he cleared his throat. It still seemed rather surreal to her that Cedric Diggory was flirting with her; not just flirting but sincerely flirting in a real and not just playful intending to fluster for amusement way. 

“Should we go check on the food?” His hands were now on either side of her neck and she felt his fingers lightly brushing through her hair.

“I’m sure Ginny and Neville have things under control,” she said softly, reluctant to end this moment with him. 

“I know Uncle Rodrick is capable of taking care of the other justice,” he said confidently. “Is there anything else that needs to be done? I’ve been to quite a few weddings over the years but this is the first time I’ve really seen behind the scenes.”

“You’re lucky. I have far too many times,” she muttered. “Even when I’ve not been part of the wedding party, it seems that I’m the one having to rush around and make sure everything is under control.”

“And you love it.”

“Well, yes, but that’s beside the point.”

“You know, Granger, you’ve got a sexy back.”

“You’re incorrigible, Diggory.”

“I really prefer adorable and sexy.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“You’re a cruel woman, Granger.”

“I prefer cold and heartless.”

“You’re not cold at all. You’re very warm, actually. Here and here.” His fingers lightly traced her shoulders and then his arms moved around her to trace her collarbone in the same gentle caress. “And you’re definitely not heartless.”

“Diggory,” she warned as she felt her belly flop around like she’d had some of the twins’ bouncing jelly beans and decided that breathing normally while Cedric was touching her was just impossible. 

“Granger,” he whispered back as his hands moved down her arms and rested on her hips. 

“I should go check on Pansy,” she told him, not making an effort to even pretend to step away. She gasped when she felt lips against the nape of her neck. Never before had she considered that spot a possible erogenous zone. Of course, she was beginning to suspect that Cedric Diggory could arouse her regardless of where he touched. 

“You should,” he agreed in a husky tone that did not convince her to rush off to listen to Pansy ramble about how great Harry was. 

“You should go check on Harry,” she said as she swayed back against him. 

“I’ll do that,” Cedric said as he kissed the side of her neck. 

“Right,” she murmured as she tried to focus on the draperies in the lobby as he kissed a sensitive spot beneath her ear that she had known made her weak-kneed. She’d barely noticed that the drapes were a nice shade of burnt orange before he turned her to face him. She looked up and met his gaze, but didn’t have time to think about the fact that his eyes were a darker shade of gray than she’d seen before because he lowered his head. 

Then he kissed her.

Hermione had been kissed before, of course, but she couldn’t quite remember any kiss making her toes curl and her heart race so fast. Even the kisses with Ron, which had been sweet and affectionate most often, had lacked this intense rush of emotion that had her parting her lips so she could kiss back. Cedric’s lips were chapped and his nose bumped against hers awkwardly until they both adjusted their positions and were able to deepen the kiss, but she didn’t care.

It was gentle but intense, teasing but passionate, and she soon had her fingers in his hair urging him closer. One of his hands rested lightly on her back, his thumb against her bare skin above the fabric of her dress, and the other hand was in her hair, fingers tangled in the thick locks as he broke the kiss and then kissed her again. She was pressed against him, gripping his shoulder as she curled her tongue around his.

When they finally parted, she’d lost track of how many kisses they’d shared as one had drifted into another into another until she’d forgotten to count. She was happy to see that he looked as dazed as she felt and she took a moment to tug her dress back up before he saw more of her than he needed to see right now.

Of course, her inherent need to know everything that was happening forced her to speak. “Diggory, what---“

He stopped her again with his finger pressed lightly against her now rather puffy lips. She could get used to his way of shutting her up, she realized, not that she’d ever admit such a thing. “After the wedding, Granger,” he told her gruffly. 

“But---“ Didn’t he realize she was impatient? It was one of her worst faults, after all, and not one she considered attractive by any means but he should _know_ how she’d hate that suggestion. Flirting was one thing, but that kiss, God, that kiss had been something else entirely. 

“Hold that thought, Granger,” he said with a slight smile. “We’ll talk after the wedding.”

“So bloody infuriating,” she muttered as she saw the stubborn set of his jaw and knew the obstinate prat wouldn’t give in to her need to understand things now and not later. She rolled her eyes when she saw the lips that she now knew from personal experience were extremely kissable curve into a smirk.

“The adorable and sexy balances the incorrigible and infuriating, though,” he told her with that cheeky smirk that made it rather difficult to stay annoyed with him. 

“It’s almost time for the ceremony so you need to go wait with Harry and the others. I’m going to check on Pansy and make sure she’s ready,” she informed him without acknowledging his comment. He was already far too smug about his appeal to her, after all. 

“Bossy,” he said in the same tone she used when she called him infuriating. He reached for her hand and tugged her closer. She leaned up and kissed him, catching him by surprise but he quickly recovered and returned the kiss. When they broke apart, she kissed the scar on his chin and he brushed his knuckles over her cheek.

“I really do need to go,” she told him as she stepped away. 

“I know. Go on, Granger. I’m not going anywhere,” he promised before he added, “well, except to check on Potter and get ready for the ceremony.”

“I’ll see you soon then, Diggory,” she said as she finally turned and left to go help Pansy. She was reluctant to leave him but honestly knew it was time to stop flirting and kissing so she could focus on her bridesmaid duties and the wedding. As he said, they’d talk after the wedding. And maybe, she thought with a rather cheeky smile of her own, there would be more kissing.


	7. The Ceremony

By the time Hermione reached the room that had been set up for the bride’s preparation, she had given herself a mental talking to and was focused on the wedding ceremony. She wasn’t completely focused, of course, as there was no possible way anyone could be kissed by Cedric Diggory and immediately focus on something else. That was one experiment she did _not_ want to conduct, she decided as the idea of Cedric kissing a long line of women had her gaze narrowed and a slight scowl on her lips.

Great. Not only was she becoming some warped version of herself with all the flirting and sneaking glances and feminine urges long hidden (or at least ignored very well), but she was becoming a jealous and possessive warped flirting female. How did women handle this sort of thing every day? She just couldn’t imagine feeling this flustered and confused all the bloody time. 

She squared her shoulders and put on her most no-nonsense we-must-get-ready-for-the-ceremony face before she opened the door and went inside. Pansy was in her room, thankfully. For a brief moment, Hermione had wondered if the bride and groom weren’t still somewhere secluded snogging one another. She refused to think of either of them doing more than snogging because, well, Harry was like her brother and some things just made her go eeew; him shagging someone was near the top of that list.

Of course, as was proving the case on this odd, wonderful, confusing, flustering day that she couldn’t quite control at all, she should have been more prepared to face Pansy. Instead of grimacing at the idea of Harry and Pansy shagging in some cloakroom, she should have had her strongest ‘you know I won’t talk about personal things with you so don’t even ask’ walls up. She was banishing images of Harry’s bony arse from her mind as she closed the door and Pansy, sneaky bitch that she was, took total advantage of her distraction to lodge a full open attack.

“You kissed him!”

Hermione, whose mind was unfortunately still on Harry, blinked stupidly and made a face. “I did not!” she denied as she tugged her dress back up and discreetly fixed her hair where Cedric’s fingers had just been running through it. “Kisses on the cheek and one snog beneath mistletoe when we were twenty is it, thank you very much. I have to say, by the way, that I do hope he’s a better kisser now because that snog wasn’t very good.”

Pansy’s triumphant smirk faded and she just looked confused. “Diggory is a bad kisser?”

“What?” Hermione squeaked as her cheeks decided then to flood with color. 

“Ah-ha!” Pansy was once again triumphant and far too smug. “What are you on about, Hermione? Have you been having a bit of firewhisky before the ceremony? Let me smell your breath.”

“I haven’t been drinking,” she said firmly. “I thought you were talking about Harry.”

“Why would I be talking about you kissing my future husband? Besides, that’s just really rather incestuous,” Pansy pointed out with a slight grimace. 

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed as she walked over to the vanity and picked up the brush. “Now that that’s decided, let me fix your hair.”

“Nothing is decided,” she said with a put-upon sigh. “He kissed you or maybe you kissed him because we both know you’re a wildcat beneath that prim and fussy exterior, or at least a potential-wildcat.”

“Your hair, Pansy?” Hermione tapped her foot impatiently and did her best to ignore the accusation that she was a wildcat, whatever the bloody hell that meant, and certainly pretending she had no idea what kissing Pansy wanted to discuss.

Pansy stood up and moved to sit in the chair by the vanity so Hermione could fix her hair. “Is he a good kisser?”

“Can we stop talking about kissing and focus on the wedding?”

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, your blush is all the answer I need. I thought you looked very properly snogged.”

“Yes, Diggory kissed me. Yes, it was very good. No, there wasn’t any groping,” she added when she saw Pansy open her mouth, predicting her next question before it could be asked. Pansy pouted but seemed pleased by the particular shade of red that Hermione’s face had become.

“Very good, huh?” Pansy teased as she wiggled her eyebrows up and down while leering. “Maybe you should do a bit of groping. He’s right fit, you know?”

“It would serve you right if I just left your hair like this,” Hermione muttered as she set about fixing what Harry’s fingers had most likely mussed up. Pansy simply smiled and changed the subject when it was obvious she’d get no further reaction from Hermione regarding kissing or groping Cedric Diggory. 

After Pansy was ready, Hermione fixed her own mussed hair and then straightened her stockings. When she noticed that Pansy was looking decidedly more nervous as the minutes ticked by, she smiled and began to share past wedding stories. The knock on the door came as Pansy was snickering about Lavender’s cousin Scott who had the misfortune of setting the drapes on fire after drinking an entire bottle of firewhisky. 

Hermione stood up and smoothed out her dress and then helped Pansy stand. “It’s time,” she said softly before she gave Pansy a hug. “You look beautiful.”

“You don’t have to say it like it’s a surprise,” Pansy murmured nervously. “What if I trip? All those people are going to be staring at me and you damn well know that half of them don’t think I’m good enough for Harry.”

“More like a quarter of them,” Hermione corrected with a gentle smile. “Another quarter don’t think he’s good enough for you and the remaining half know you’re perfect for each other.”

“You know, this is when you should lie and tell me everyone is thrilled about the wedding,” Pansy confided with a grin. “If I didn’t admire your blunt honesty, I think I’d find you very annoying, Hermione.”

“Well, if I didn’t like the way you made Harry so happy, I’d think you were a rude bitch,” Hermione said with a wink. “Oh, wait, you’re still a rude bitch.”

“And you’re still annoying,” Pansy replied as she smacked her arm playfully, looking far less anxious than she had a few minutes ago. 

Hermione picked up the bridal bouquet and gave it to Pansy, making sure her veil was perfect and then fluffing out the skirt of the dress. Once she was certain that she’d not forgotten anything, she picked up her own bouquet of flowers and smiled. “Let’s do this.”

They left the room and headed towards the door that led out to the gardens, where the ceremony was being held. A quick glance outside confirmed that it was still sunny and beautiful. A perfect day for a wedding, she realized. Pansy gripped her hand tightly and peered around her to peek outside.

“He looks handsome, doesn’t he?” Pansy asked in a hushed whisper.

Hermione looked out and her gaze immediately rested on Cedric, who was standing opposite Luna. He was wearing a tuxedo like Harry’s and had found the coat of it since they’d parted in the lobby. His tie was the same shade as her dress, which had her smiling at his charm casting since it had been a soft yellow when she’d seen it loose around his neck in the hallway. The sun caught the natural highlights in his hair and the disheveled locks looked even more attractive now that she knew what they felt like beneath her fingers. 

“Very handsome,” she whispered as he shifted uncomfortably and smiled at Neville.

“Stop drooling over Diggory, Hermione. I meant my Harry,” Pansy said with a nudge to Hermione’s side. 

“I’m not drooling,” Hermione denied as she straightened up at the music’s cue. “Ready?”

“You were, too. And I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Pansy decided as she finally released Hermione’s hand. “So I just walk straight and repeat the words?”

“Focus on Harry,” Hermione suggested. “If you ignore everything else and just focus on him, you’ll make it down the aisle fine. You repeat the vows and then kiss and it’s all done.”

She hated this part of the wedding. It was the worst part of being a bridesmaid by far. The walk down the aisle with everyone staring was awkward and rather uncomfortable. Still, Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder, held her head high, and stepped outside when Vince and Dean opened the doors. 

_You won’t trip. You won’t trip._ The words repeated in her mind as she began to walk. Unconsciously, her gaze met Cedric’s and she was startled to see him staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. She smiled at him as she walked, not even noticing who had accepted their invitations with the nosy curiosity that normally had her scanning the crowd and making a mental list to provide the bride after the ceremony and before the reception.

Soft gasps and whispers indicated that Pansy was outside. Pansy’s father hadn’t survived the war so she was walking down the aisle unescorted, which Hermione knew must make her even more anxious since she didn’t have someone’s arm to hold if she was nervous. Cedric glanced at Pansy but his gaze returned to Hermione and he didn’t look away even after she finally arrived at the front. 

Hermione stepped past him, giving him a shy smile and blushing slightly at the intense way he was still looking at her. She moved into place and turned to watch Pansy walk the rest of the way. Ron was opposite her and she was pleased to notice that he didn’t look as worried as he had that morning. He was the best man and she could tell he hated the formal tuxedo from the way he fidgeted slightly. She gave him a look and he grinned sheepishly before winking at her.

She rolled her eyes and snuck a glance at Cedric, who was standing behind Neville. He mouthed, ‘You look beautiful, Granger’, and managed to make her blush as she smiled a very un-Hermione-like feminine smile. 

‘So do you, Diggory,’ she mouthed back discreetly so no guests would notice their silent exchange. She saw Ron scowling slightly as his gaze moved from her to Cedric, a ginger brow arched as he gave her a look very similar to Harry’s earlier that indicated she’d be answering some questions about a certain Mister Diggory if Ron had his way. 

While she appreciated that Harry and Ron liked to look out for her, they seemed to forget that she was the eldest and had spent most of their friendship looking out for them. They both liked Cedric, but that was when he was playing a scrimmage Quidditch match on a weekend or attending this party or that. She wasn’t sure what they’d think of her and Cedric, well, she wasn’t sure if they might date or just enjoy a few more kisses at the wedding, but she thought that dating and possibly more was in their future. There was a big difference in hanging out with a bloke or watching him flirt at a party versus consenting to him dating your surrogate sister, not that she needed her friend’s consent for such a thing. It was her life, after all, and she knew as she snuck another glance at Cedric that she wanted to explore the possibilities with him.

Pansy finally arrived at the front and Hermione was convinced she must have taken baby steps down the aisle because it took her so long. Of course, it always seemed to take the bride a long time to walk so maybe it was something in the wedding dress that prevented them from actually walking normally. 

There was something about weddings that made the internal cynic within shut up and let out the closet romantic that Hermione always kept carefully hidden. The vows were standard and unoriginal but hearing them spoken by her best friend and the woman he loved made them sound unique this time. Several times during the ceremony, she glanced slightly behind her and met Cedric’s gaze before she’d once again focus on the vows being exchanged.

By the time Harry kissed Pansy, her eyes were damp and she was smiling in a very sappy way that she’d deny. She noticed Ron discreetly wipe his face; he always cried at weddings in a way she found sweetly adorable. They shared a smile as their Harry got married before they looked back to the newly married couple.

Uncle Rodrick waited to speak again until they were finished kissing, a soft romantic kiss that made Hermione sigh enviously and think of Cedric at the same time. Her gaze met his again and he smiled in a way that had her smiling in return. It was then that she heard Uncle Rodrick announce, “I present to you Harry and Pansy Potter.”

Hermione looked at her friends and mouthed, ‘I love you’, to Harry and he, being Harry, forgot about what was expected behavior and crossed in front of Pansy to give her a huge hug. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered against her hair as he nearly crushed her to death. She felt more arms around her.

“Not fair,” Ron murmured as he hugged them both. “I want a hug, too.”

Harry laughed as he stepped back and the three of them shared a moment that no one else would ever truly understand. They’d done the same thing at Ron’s wedding, though then they’d at least waited until the reception before having this private moment as they held hands and just rested their heads together in a three-sided triangle. 

Hermione looked at Pansy and saw understanding in her gaze, thankful that Harry had found someone who knew him so well. She squeezed Harry and Ron’s hands and then pushed Harry back to his bride. Pansy smiled as she hugged him, kissing his cheek before she took his hand and led him down the aisle.

“Trust Harry to never do anything the way it should be done,” Ron murmured with an affectionate smile as he took her arm and they followed the newlyweds. 

“He wouldn’t be our Harry if he did,” she whispered, catching Cedric’s gaze and sharing a smile with him before she and Ron walked back down the aisle to follow Harry and Pansy to the reception area. 

“That’s true, I guess,” Ron replied in a low whisper. He grinned at her. “You look gorgeous in that dress, Hermione, but I keep feeling the urge to take off my coat and cover you up so these blokes can’t leer at your tits.”

“Ronald,” she hissed as she elbowed his side as discreetly as possible. 

“No injuring the best man,” he scolded with a playful smile. “You just look cold; right, very cold in an ‘I need to borrow your coat, Ron, to cover up my tits’ sort of way. Didn’t you know that single blokes go to weddings so they can be lecherous wankers?”

“Can we please stop discussing my cleavage?” she asked hopefully. 

“I don’t know. It’s kinda fun to annoy you,” Ron reminded her with a wink. 

“You’re a married man, Ronald Weasley,” she said primly, watching as the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Doesn’t mean I’m dead,” he informed her. “Besides, Luna thinks you have nice tits, too.”

“You’ve discussed my breasts with your wife?” she asked in a rather shocked tone, torn between being disturbed and amused.

“Not like _that_ ,” Ron sputtered as his entire face soon matched his ears. “God, Hermione. That’s just wrong on so many levels. It was one night when we were a bit pissed and talking about---“

“That’s okay, Ron. I _really_ don’t want to know,” she assured him before he stammered out some odd-Ron-Luna-like explanation. 

“Thank God,” he murmured as he looked at her with a sheepish smile. 

It was impossible to maintain a straight face. She bit her lip to keep from snickering and he grinned before he finally just laughed softly. She bumped her hip against his and he squeezed her hand and then they both just laughed. Thankfully, they’d already made their way down the aisle and were nearly at the area set up for the reception before they were giggling and snickering like teens instead of adults nearing their thirties. 

“What’s so funny?” Ginny asked as she and Neville caught up to them. 

“Ron just told me a funny joke,” Hermione explained smoothly. 

“Ron told it and it was funny?” Ginny looked disbelieving as she stared at her brother. “What was it?”

“I don’t remember now,” Ron said with a blank stare that he often used as a means of diversion. Once again, it proved successful.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Ginny muttered as she rolled her eyes. “Do you think we can get the first dance out of the way now? I’m hungry. That fish that the pub sent up smells delicious, oh my God, Hermione, I’m going to eat it all!”

Hermione turned to look at Cedric, rolling her eyes but smiling when he winked at her. “Yes, I say we get the first dance finished so the party can really get started.” 

Harry nodded and motioned for the music to start. He escorted Pansy onto the dance floor and began to dance their first dance as husband and wife. Hermione and Ron joined them when it was time, followed by Neville and Ginny and then by Luna and Cedric. She heard Pansy laughing as Harry twirled her and watched them for a moment, pleased to see Harry so very happy. 

Hermione generally liked to dance and didn’t even mind that Ron was rather awful at it, easily dodging his missteps and twirling before he could step on her feet. Her feet were still rather sore but not nearly as bad as they could have been; being carried had helped out in that area quite a bit. Soon the song was over and another began with more people joining them on the dance floor.

“Hey, Granger,” Cedric said as he and Luna joined them. Luna took Ron’s hand and began to dance with him while Cedric moved in front of Hermione. He grinned down at her as he reached up to gently brush her hair away from her face. “I seem to recall you promising me a dance or several.”

“I seem to remember promising one dance,” she mused as she smiled up at him. “More than that might require further negotiations.”

“Perhaps a kiss for each dance?” he offered as if it were a great sacrifice. “It would be a tough price to pay, of course, but I suppose I could manage.”

“A very tough price to pay,” she agreed with a teasing smile as she took his hand and moved closer to him, swaying slightly to the music.

He lowered his head and brushed his lips gently against hers. She knew they both wanted more as they reluctantly separated but it wasn’t the time or the place for the kind of kisses they wanted to share. “For the first dance,” he told her with that slight smirk that made her tummy flip as he moved his fingers into her hair and let his other hand rest on the small of the back. 

“Very noble of you,” she complimented as she moved her arm over his shoulder and the other around his waist, her fingers toying with the ends of his hair that brushed against his collar as they danced.

“I try,” he told her in a modest tone that was ruined by his cheeky grin. Their gazes met and the teasing expression faded. He suddenly looked uncertain as he bit his lip in a very adorable way before he caressed her cheek and asked, “Granger, would you save the last dance for me?”

“The last dance is yours, Diggory,” she promised softly as she leaned up and brushed a kiss against the scar on his chin before she settled into his arms for the dance. _And any dance in between_.


	8. The Reception

One dance led to three before someone cut in. Hermione groaned softly when she heard the cleared throat and had no shame in turning to glare at the man she knew would be standing there. Seamus was, as usual, unfazed by her glare. Instead, he looked very smug and was grinning in a way that made him resemble a chipmunk hiding a walnut in its cheek. On anyone else, the look would be rather adorable. On Shay, it looked impish, which was _never_ a good thing.

“Diggory, you really need to learn the rules of proper etiquette for a wedding,” Seamus tsked in a very pompous voice she was certain he probably tried out in Dean’s ear during the ceremony. “No monopolizing the head bridesmaid.”

“I must not have received the rulebook,” Cedric drawled as a lazy smile crossed his lips. “If you wanted a dance, all you had to do was ask, Finnigan. I’m sure Granger can spare me for a few minutes.”

“Cheeky,” Seamus accused with an even bigger grin. “Hermione, my dear, we’re dancing this next one if you can let go of your Puff long enough.”

The comment was very basic but Seamus had a way of making it sound as if she were doing lurid things instead of simply dancing. She rolled her eyes and looked at Cedric. “It appears we’ve been ‘cut in’,” she told him with a dramatic sigh. 

“Have I ever mentioned that one of my favorite hobbies is hexing little Irishmen?” Cedric asked Seamus in a ‘Go or I might hex you…Please?’ tone. 

“Oh? Then I’ve nothing to worry about,” Seamus said brightly before he winked and took Hermione’s hand. “I’m _not_ little. Just ask Dean.”

Before Cedric could respond, Seamus twirled her around the dance floor until they were in the middle. “You’re a prat,” Hermione muttered as he moved his hands to her bum and started doing some odd grinding movement that she assumed was supposed to be dancing. “Get your hands off my arse and stop rutting against me like that. It’s disturbing and may very well scar me for life.”

“Pshaw. I’m helping,” he offered with a leer and wiggle of his eyebrows. “Perhaps Diggory will realize he can touch below the waist and then I can sit back and watch the heterosexual mating ritual as it happens.”

“You’re worse than a prat. You, my lovely Seamus, are a perverted git,” she informed him as she reached behind her and moved his hands to a more proper place. The action caused her dress to scrunch down, again, so she quickly tugged it back up before her bits fell out. 

“You know, Muggles make some sort of tape stuff that helps keep those sorts of dresses in place,” he told her. “Aren’t you a girl? You’re supposed to know these types of things.”

“They do?” She frowned and wondered why she hadn’t been told about it when she’d been muttering to the dress maker about how easy it was for the bodice to slip down after a bit of movement. The woman hadn’t liked her much, though, so maybe that’s why. She arched a brow and smirked. “And how do you happen to know this, Mister Finnigan?”

“You, my dear, have a dirty mind,” he said loftily. “I heard about it on some telly program with these two harpies who dress people. I like to watch educational programming when Dean is being all ‘I’m an artist and can’t have distractions’. The closest I’ve ever gotten to wearing a girl’s clothes is my kilt and that’s traditional.”

“Maybe it is for Oliver Wood but certainly not for Seamus Finnigan.”

“Well, then, it’s kinky,” he offered with a lecherous smile. “Bet you’d not mind Pretty Boy Diggory wearing a kilt and nothing else. You’d be more than happy to slide your hand beneath the material and---Ow! That was me bum!”

Hermione smiled sweetly. “You’re not to think of my hands sliding anywhere, thank you very much,” she said after she pinched his bum rather hard. “And don’t you dare give me the wounded puppy dog look because I’m immune.”

“Maybe I _should_ have danced with Diggory to warn him that you’re a rough one,” Seamus murmured before he grinned again. “’course, Diggory might like it a bit rough.”

“We can always go change partners,” she suggested even as she blushed slightly as she thought of Diggory wearing nothing but a kilt and possibly being spanked. God, three minutes around Seamus and her mind was firmly in the gutter thinking of the most inappropriate things ever.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Seamus sounded a bit amazed before he recovered and stopped leering. “He’s a good bloke, Diggory is. He’s got a bit of a different drummer than most give him credit, if you know what I mean, but he’s loyal and nearly as fussy as you. ‘sides that, he’s right fit and got a great arse. You should be pinching his instead of mine. Mine’s getting a bit flabby.”

“He’s fussy?” Hermione was torn between curiosity, as Seamus might know Diggory a bit better after working with him briefly a few years ago, and changing the subject.

“Didn’t know that, did you?” Seamus grinned. “Yeah, he’s persnickety. That’s a great word, isn’t it? Dean’s ma says it a lot. Anyway, Diggory isn’t as anal as you by any means, but he was always working late and writing his notes all precisely. Bothered the fuck out of him when someone’s notes were covered in splotches or they didn’t straighten up their work areas. Couple of the sloppier ones had a party when he quit.”

Hermione smiled as she looked over Seamus’ shoulder to find Cedric dancing with a seemingly chatty, or possibly tipsy, Lavender. “He’s working for Gringotts now so I imagine that they appreciate such attention to detail,” she said with a slight smile. 

Before Seamus could reply, the music changed and Vince was there to cut in. After a stammered, “You look very pretty,” they danced in comfortable silence. Vince was a large man, though not much taller than her, and obviously felt awkward dancing. She led, making sure to keep their movements easily graceful and uncomplicated. That dance ended and he released her hand with a smile before ambling off to get a drink.

Three steps were taken towards Cedric, who was looking at her as he finished a dance with Professor McGonagall, who would remain thus titled and never be Minerva in Hermione’s mind no matter how hard she tried to be informal with her favorite former Professor. A hand took hers before she made a fourth and she found herself dancing with Remus. 

It was nice to catch up with him and that dance became two as he discreetly inquired about a certain handsome young boy, as they were still all children to Remus and, like Professor McGonagall, would always remain that way in his mind, who was spending an awful lot of time watching her when he was supposed to be dancing. 

By the time she reached the edge of the dance floor, she’d been spun around the floor by Colin, Ernie, Terry, Dean, and several Weasleys. Thankfully they didn’t ask questions about her and Cedric, though Terry got a bit fresh and spent most their dance looking at her cleavage and George looked far too knowingly smug when he danced her around to the _opposite_ side of the dance floor from where Cedric had been. Of course, Cedric was gone when she finally stopped dancing and finally reached the area. 

She caught sight of him dancing with Tonks, who seemed to be making him blush as he stole looks at Hermione and apparently answered questions. Poor boy had no idea what he was getting into by kissing her publicly. When she noticed Ron on his way over to Cedric, her eyes widened and she hurried through the crowd of dancers to grab his hand before he could do whatever it was he had planned.

“Dance with me,” she told him firmly as she deliberately twirled away from Cedric who had, unfortunately, been intercepted by the bride. Hermione felt a moment of terror at the idea of what Pansy, of all people, would say to him, hoping that she was wrong and he was simply having polite chit chat about the weather with his dance partners. That notion, however, was ruined by the look of mischievous glee in Pansy’s eyes as she wiggled her eyebrows at Hermione and blatantly pointed at his arse and made a grabbing motion behind his back. 

“He’d have been safer talking to me than dancing with Parkin-Potter,” Ron muttered in a disgruntled tone. “I wasn’t going to hex him or anything, Hermione.”

“What did you plan to do?” she asked as she looked up at Ron, wondering how Luna managed to not have a constant sore neck. Luna was shorter than her and Ron was even taller than Cedric, which meant Luna had to tilt her head back at a quite an angle to even see Ron. She refused to think about the mechanics of such a height difference in areas other than dancing, though, because again with the Harry-ish eeew, and especially in this case as Ron was her ex. 

“I was simply going to ask his intentions,” Ron told her casually. 

“I’m not your daughter so I’d say that’s not a question you have any business asking,” she informed him in her best ‘do it and you’ll have boils on your bollocks’ tone.

“He’s been staring at your ti---attributes,” Ron blushed slightly, “and he seems to have a case of grabby hands.”

“Seamus seems to think his hands weren’t nearly grabby enough.”

“Seamus is a perverted tosser who is lucky Dean has a thing for lecherous Irishmen.”

“Ronald, I appreciate you wanting to look out for me but there’s no need to give Diggory the Weasley Inquisition.”

“Hermione, you’re making googly eyes at him and you keep blushing in a really disturbing sort of way. You obviously fancy him and it’s my duty as Best Friend to make sure he knows that he’ll die a thousand deaths if he uses you, hurts you, or pretty much does anything except cherishes you and makes you happy.”

“I love you, Ron,” she said before she kissed his jaw. 

“I’m pretty lovable,” he preened before he kissed the top of her head. “Just don’t want you sad.”

“I know,” she replied, “but, please, at least wait until I see where this thing with Diggory might go before you play overprotective little brother, okay?”

“You promise that Harry and I can take him out for a drink if this goggly eyed thing goes further?” 

“Promise.”

“Fine. I won’t threaten him tonight then,” Ron relented reluctantly. He suddenly grinned. “I think Ginny already threatened him anyway so it should be okay.”

He ran to hide behind Luna before she could smack him and then Kingsley was telling her that she was dancing with him. After recovering from the surprise of Kingsley actually dancing, she found out Moody had dared him to dance with every guest and it seemed a bottle of aged firewhisky and reputations were on the line. He’d just finished dancing with a shell-shocked Vincent Crabbe, it appeared, so Hermione let him twirl her around the floor. 

It was another two dances before she met up with Cedric in the middle of the dance floor, both giving up trying to reach the side. “Having fun?” she asked as he took her hand and squeezed gently.

“Fun isn’t quite the word I’d use,” he decided. “Let me just say that you have some very creative friends and I pity anyone who ever treats you poorly. Those women are harsh and more than slightly scary.”

“It’s been that bad?” She was suddenly worried that he’d decide she wasn’t worth the trouble.

He smiled as he leaned down to kiss her, his lips lingering against hers for a few heartbeats. “It hasn’t been bad at all,” he told her. “It’s nice that they care about you. Besides, I’ve no intentions of doing anything that would result in my facing their wrath so it’s simply nodding and letting them get the subtle and, in a couple of cases, not so subtle warnings out.”

“Oh.” Well, that sounded very intelligent. If fancying a bloke meant her intelligence suddenly diminished, she might have to rethink this entire relationship possibility thing. 

Cedric smirked and dipped her back suddenly, dragging his fingers along the curve of her throat before he raised her again. Before she could tug, his hands were discreetly pushing the material of her dress back up to properly cover her where it had slipped from the dance move. She smiled when she saw he was looking at her face and not her barely covered breasts, something that earned him a soft kiss.

The music stopped and dinner was announced as they ended their dance. She was pleasantly surprised to learn that Ginny had asked Cedric to change places with her, which meant he was seated next to her during the meal. Pansy hadn’t even called Ginny on the rather weak excuse that she wanted to be next to Neville in case she went into labor or anything. Seeing as she wasn’t due for another six weeks, it was a flimsy excuse, at best, but Pansy merely nudged Hermione and whispered something about ‘your Diggory’. 

Speeches were made before the meal was served. Her speech went well, though it was one of the worst parts of the entire bridesmaid experience in her opinion. She hated having everyone stare at her and wasn’t a funny person so she couldn’t tell jokes that were actually funny or anything. She focused on Pansy as she knew Ron would talk more about Harry, and told a few stories with a dry wit that she could pull off somewhat well. Ron’s speech made her sniffle and discreetly drink some wine to cover the fact that she wanted to cry at his reminiscing of the past years with their Harry. 

The speech Pansy gave was entirely her. It was hard, sarcastic, affectionate, and gentle beneath. It was Harry’s speech, though, that made her sigh like a sap. It was just so bloody awful and he stammered awkwardly but it was so full of emotion that she couldn’t help but envy Pansy a bit for having someone love her like that. Pansy seemed to approve, too, because she knocked her chair over backwards when she stood up and kissed Harry in the middle of his stuttering adorableness. 

The remainder of the meal was spent talking and laughing, the conversation between her and Cedric flowing so well that she was tempted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t just dreaming. She wasn’t smitten enough to not see his faults, of course. He had this annoying habit of not letting his food mix on his plate, it seemed, and he pushed his hair back from his face more than most girls she knew. 

She knew he was stubborn and that he could be rather passive when it came to heated debates, though he always spoke passionately about his opinions when he actually got involved in such a discussion. He just seemed to choose his fights, so to speak, whereas she had a tendency to argue with anyone if it was something she had opinions about. He didn’t seem to mind arguing with her during the years, of course. 

When the food was cleared, Harry took her hand and led her to the dance floor before she’d barely stood up. “You know, just because you’re the groom doesn’t mean you get to be rude,” she told him as the music started.

“Yes, it does,” he replied as he pushed his spectacles up before he took her hand and began to move. “So you and Diggory?”

“Not you too,” she groaned in an obvious attempt to avoid this discussion, again. 

“Like I could resist?” He grinned suddenly. “It’s sweet.”

“I am not sweet,” she denied before she stuck her tongue out at him. 

“No, you’re the mature one,” he said dryly as he rolled his eyes and smiled. “I’ve just never seen you like this before so it’s rather weird but also cute.”

“You people really need to get lives,” she muttered as she realized that her flirtation with Cedric was probably the biggest gossip at the wedding. It was more than a little embarrassing to know their friends were so aware of the changes in their relationship that had been happening during the day. 

“Don’t hurt him,” Harry told her softly. She looked at him in surprise and decided that it was just like Harry to say something that left her rather speechless. “I know he’s got a reputation for being confident and very self-assured, but he’s actually rather shy when it comes to relationships and I know it’s taken a lot of nerve for him to flirt so openly with you the past few years. You can be very difficult to please, Hermione, and your expectations tend to be ridiculously high not to mention that bossy streak and rather overwhelming personality you’ve got.”

“I wouldn’t---“

“I know you’d never deliberately do anything,” Harry interrupted as he twirled her to the music. “I just had to mention something because you’re both my friends and I don’t figure most people would think about the chances of him being vulnerable. Hey, did you hear that? I’m actually reading that word a day calendar you got me for Christmas, for once. Proud of me?”

“You know, all those people that say you’re not very smart or sensitive are just bloody ignorant,” she told him as she squeezed his hand.

“Sweet talking me won’t work, Hermione. I already gave him a nice warning of what happens if you fuck with the sister of Harry Potter,” he teased as he pulled on a stray lock of her hair. “Now why don’t you go save the poor guy and sneak away for a bit of whatever happens to happen so long as I don’t have to think about it because, yeah, that’s just not on at all.”

“Save him?” She looked over her shoulder and saw that he was dancing with Luna. She laughed and ruffled Harry’s hair when the song ended. “Congratulations, Harry. I’m really glad that you’ve found someone who makes you happy. I expect lots of presents when you get back home from your honeymoon so make sure you leave the room at least once.”

“She does make me happy,” Harry said with a goofy smile. “In fact, I’m about to find her and do a bit of escaping of my own I think.”

Hermione kissed his cheek and gave him a hug before she went to reclaim Cedric. “I believe you promised me this dance,” she told him as she snuck up behind him. 

He turned and smiled. “Did I?”

“Uh huh.” She nodded as she took his hand and moved closer to him. They started to dance and she gathered up her courage. “This is our last dance, Diggory.”

He stumbled slightly and looked at her. “It is?”

“Yes,” she replied as she brushed the stubborn lock of hair away from his forehead. “My feet hurt and I want to get these shoes off so I’ll be more comfortable. One last dance.”

“Oh, well, you need to take care of your feet,” he said with obvious disappointment before he smiled. “I’ve been told that I’m pretty good at massages, you know?”

Hermione laughed as she moved closer to him and rested her cheek on his chest. “I was actually thinking that you might like to leave with me,” she mused with far more confidence than she actually felt at the moment. What if she’d read the signals wrong? What if it really was just a flirtation and he had no intention of actually going beyond a few kisses? 

He inhaled sharply and he stopped moving for several beats of the music. “For a walk or something?” he asked softly as his hand drifted up and down her back.

“Or something,” she replied as she deliberately pressed against him in a way that showed what she couldn’t actually say. Her cheeks were red, she knew, and she hoped everyone was distracted and hadn’t just seen her rub against Cedric that way. 

“Granger,” he muttered hoarsely as he lowered his head and kissed her neck. “We don’t have to---I mean, I want to, God, do I want to, but I’m good if we just do this.”

“I have a room,” she whispered as she pulled back to look up at him. She smiled when she saw the look on his face that left little doubt as to his desire for her. He seemed a bit flushed and she almost felt sorry for boys because it was rather difficult for them to hide their arousal, the hardness currently pressed against her belly definitely telling her his body was more than happy and ready for her plan. It was the look in his gaze, though, that excited her and flustered her and aroused her all at the same time. 

“A room?” he repeated in a husky voice as his hand drifted down her back to discreetly squeeze her arse before it moved back up to rest on the small of her back. “Let’s finish this dance, Granger, and then we’ll just see what happens. No expectations or anything.”

The rest of their dance merely heightened their arousal. The touches were more deliberate, their movements sensual, and she almost cheered when the bloody song finally ended. They had maneuvered their way to the closest escape path back to the inn and she took a glance around to make sure no one was watching as it was rather awkward for all her closest friends to know she was sneaking away to, hopefully, shag Cedric Diggory rotten. 

Content that no one was paying them any attention, she took his hand and led him away from the reception. They didn’t even make it inside the inn before he stopped her and pulled her against him for a kiss that made the previous ones seem tame in comparison. She whimpered as she gripped his hair and pressed closer. She pulled back and smiled somewhat cheekily. She took his hand and pulled him along after her inside the inn and towards the stairs as she told him in an echo of his words to her earlier, “Hold that thought.”


	9. Come Undone

The thought was held all the way up the stairs, which seemed to be twice as high as they had been earlier, and down the hallway, which was also twice as long. They finally arrived at Hermione’s room and she kissed Cedric in celebration. His hands roamed over her eagerly and she had to step back just to avoid possibly doing something inappropriate right there in the hallway.

She reached for the doorknob and cursed. “I don’t have my key.”

“You don’t?” His voice was a low groan as he pressed against her. 

“I left it in my bag downstairs,” she told him with a sheepish smile. “I, uh, was in a bit of a hurry to get up here and forgot.”

“Where is it?” he asked with a smile. “I’ll go get it.”

“I’ll get it. Just, here,” she took off her shoes and handed them to him, “hold these and I’ll be right back!”

Hermione raised up the skirt of her dress until it was around her knees so she had more freedom of movement and then literally dashed down the ridiculously long hallway that was now reminiscent of some older horror film her mum watched every Halloween. If she saw a little boy on a tricycle, she was grabbing Cedric and Apparating away, she decided as she finally reached the stairs.

It felt a bit foolish to be practically running but there were some things that just required extra effort. Her foot missed a step near the bottom, however, and she almost tripped and fell on her face, barely grabbing the banister to catch herself. After that, she went with more caution but still rather hurriedly. She had a very handsome man with an erection waiting for her and that was enough to make her go a little faster.

The bag was in the bride’s room. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when she saw that the room was, thankfully, empty. “There you are,” she exclaimed rather triumphantly when she found the key. She gripped it tightly and got her bag before rushing back upstairs. The trip up didn’t take nearly as long and soon she arrived back at the door to her room. 

“Got it,” she told him as she stopped for a moment to catch her breath. She felt a bit sticky and was all too aware that she was flushed and somewhat sweaty from nearly running down the stairs and hallway. 

Cedric grinned as he put her shoes in one hand and took the key from her. He leaned forward and kissed her again, slow and teasing, before he pulled back and cursed. “I can’t get the bloody thing in,” he muttered.

Hermione snickered in a very immature ‘my best friends are boys so please forgive me for thinking dirty thoughts’ sort of way. “We’ll have to work a little harder then, won’t we?” she teased in what she hoped was a sexy voice but she actually thought sounded like she had a head cold.

“We’ll have no problems with _that_ ,” he told her as he blushed rather nicely. He fumbled with the key and finally managed to get it into the lock. When the door to her room swung open, Hermione found herself being well and thoroughly kissed as he urged her inside.

“Drop the shoes,” she commanded softly against his lips, hearing them fall to the floor right before his hand tangled in her hair. She kicked the door shut and didn’t even bother to pull her dress up when she felt it slip. Instead, she tugged on his tie and pulled it off, throwing it on the floor with her shoes. 

It caught her by surprise when he pushed her back against the door and pressed against her as they kissed. In retrospect, she realized it would have been very sexy had the doorknob not been right behind her. She bucked forward as she felt the knob poke her back and accidentally bit his tongue lightly as she felt a slight pain from the impact with the knob.

He pulled back and looked at her in concern. “You okay?” he asked, though it sounded more like ‘Tu tay?’ as he wiggled his tongue to shake off the pain of the bite.

“Doorknob,” she explained as she rubbed her back and glared at the offending object. She moved over and leaned back against the flat wall and smiled at him. “Uh, sorry about the tongue.”

“It’s fine. Sorry about the doorknob,” he said with a wry smile before she reached for him and pulled on the collar of his shirt. Then he just looked at her with that arousing intensity and kissed her, though not quite as hard as before due to his sore tongue. 

His hands slid up her legs and she reached down to help him tug up the skirt of her dress. She was glad that he seemed to be over the bite rather quickly, his tongue moving with more force as she kissed him back. Their movements were frantic and she honestly couldn’t remember ever feeling this aroused and needy before. 

Most of the afternoon had been foreplay, though, and they were both just ready to consummate their desire. There’d be time for slow and exploratory later. Right now, she just wanted Cedric and didn’t care if it was up against a wall. 

“God, Granger,” he whispered when their lips parted. “You’re so---I need---I mean, I want---Should we move to the bed?”

“Right here,” she told him with a rather wicked smile she didn’t really have experience using. He seemed to like it as he groaned and pressed his hips more firmly against her so she guessed it didn’t look too weird. She reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing glimpses of sun-kissed skin that she had to kiss because it was just too tempting.

“Not fair,” he accused hoarsely as he gently pushed her away. He reached up and tugged on her dress, pulling the bodice down and taking her strapless bra along with it. Hermione bit her lip when her breasts bounced free, not used to being half-naked around anyone and especially not in these circumstances. His hand hesitantly enclosed around one breast and she noticed he was looking from them to her face as if he expected her to cover them and push him away. A crooked smile crossed his lips as he looked down and she frowned.

“What?” she finally asked as she looked at her breasts, not seeing anything that would cause a smile. They were an okay size, but nothing special. She liked them all right but didn’t really get men’s preoccupation with them. That is until Cedric’s finger lightly brushed across her nipple and she felt a responding tremor in her cunt. It had been awhile for her, more than a few years, and she’d tried to forget just how good sex felt when she wasn’t having it and the prospects for having it had been nonexistent. 

Cedric chuckled softly and earned an even bigger scowl as she glared up at him. “Freckles,” he murmured in a husky voice as his fingers reached up to touch the scattering of freckles that covered her chest. He leaned down and licked her nipple, gently sucking the hardened nub into his mouth as his hand caressed her other breast. Hermione heard a moan and realized it was her as she pushed against his face and rubbed her legs together to alleviate a bit of the tension. When Cedric raised his head, he met her gaze. “I like the freckles. They’re sexy and unexpected, sort of like you.”

“Oh,” she replied, not exactly sure what someone says to that sort of compliment. She wasn’t particularly good at this talking during sex thing and wasn’t even sure she’d be any good at the actual sex part as she honestly didn’t have that much experience with it all unless you counted her hand and a toy she’d bought one day when she’d felt particularly bold and rather horny. 

No time like the present to get more experience, she decided. She smiled as she opened his shirt and shoved it and his coat off of him, letting them fall to the floor. Her gaze moved over him hungrily, taking in every angle and curve of his upper torso. His collarbone was just too lickable so she leaned forward and swiped her tongue over his bare skin. He wasn’t overly muscular, but he wasn’t scrawny, either. She kissed him and pulled him closer, saving the thorough investigation for later. 

Her breasts rubbed against his chest as they kissed again. The wall wasn’t very comfortable behind her but she had no complaints when his hand moved back beneath the skirt of her dress and she felt his fingers on her upper thigh. She kissed a path along his jaw and then nibbled his neck, blushing slightly as she knew that he’d soon find out just how aroused she was by him. 

She gasped when she felt his finger brush against the wet fabric of her knickers. He made a choked groaning sound that had her gripping his shoulders tightly. “You’re so wet,” he murmured as he moved his finger back and forth over the material. 

“Way to state the obvious, Diggory,” she muttered as she smiled against his neck. 

“What can I say, Granger? I’m just an intuitive bloke,” he told her before he pushed the fabric of her knickers to the side and trailed his finger along her wet lips. “Like that?”

She was surprised to hear the question in his voice. She nodded. “That feels good,” she said softly. “Maybe, uh, more firm? I’m not going to break and there’s been enough teasing today, Diggory.”

“I want you, Granger,” he whispered against her ear as he pushed his finger inside her slowly. 

“Yes, and I want you, Diggory. That’s why we’re here in my room, after all, half naked with fingers in places they normally wouldn’t be,” she reminded him, her words broken near the end by soft gasps of breath as he moved his finger. “Now can we stop talking and get to it? Patience is not one of my virtues, I’m ashamed to admit.”

“God, you’re something else, Granger.” He laughed softly, obviously liking the something else he thought her to be. She just didn’t see the point in wasting time talking all seductive when it was a sure thing. He could seduce her all he wanted later. Right now, she just wanted him inside her. 

“So are you, Diggory,” she told him honestly, knowing he wasn’t like any other man she knew and certainly not like any other she’d been intimate with. She reached between them and slid her hand into his trousers and shorts, her fingers wrapping around his erection as well as they could at this angle. 

“Fuck,” he cursed as he bucked forward into her hand. His breath was a warm pant against her neck as his hips rolled so he could move against her hand. He added a second finger to her cunt and she whined, needing more. Then he withdrew his fingers from her and pulled her hand from his shorts. His wet fingers slid across the top of her hand and she shivered when she heard him fumbling with his trousers. 

The sound of his zip lowering was nearly as loud as her heartbeat, she decided as she shifted against the wall and pulled her dress up around her waist. She pushed her knickers down, wiggling until they fell down her legs to gather at her ankles. His lips caught hers and he pressed against her again, this time with his trousers around his knees and his cock sliding against her wet curls. 

She hadn’t had a chance to see him but he felt rather thick and reasonably long. When she tried to grab him and push him inside her, he closed his fingers around her wrist and pulled her arm up and above her head. “If you do that, I won’t last long,” he muttered before he sucked her nipple again, teasing and licking until she was about ready to scream. 

“Diggory,” she murmured as she rubbed against him. “Now.”

He raised his head and his gaze caught hers once more. “Are you sure, Granger?” he asked as he pushed the head of his cock inside her. 

“This gentleman thing could get rather annoying,” she told him as she pushed forward as hard as she could, intending to take his length inside her. She hadn’t expected to catch him off guard, hadn’t realized it was taking most of his concentration not to just sink right into her, and certainly hadn’t planned on him cursing as he lost his balance and fell backwards onto the floor. She fell with him, landing on top of him in a heap of naked skin, tangled trousers, and her dress. 

“Bloody hell,” he cursed as he grimaced and rubbed the back of his head. He looked at her and blinked before he slowly smiled. “You know, we might should have just gone to the bed.”

“Are you okay?” she asked as she straddled him and checked the parts she could see. She told herself she was just checking for injury as her fingers touched his shoulders, arms, and chest, but she knew she was a shameless liar.

“I’d have probably dropped you if we’d tried against the wall, anyway,” he mused as he smiled sheepishly, his hair falling across his forehead as his hands reached behind her and slid beneath the skirt of her dress to grip her bare bum. “You’ve got such a great arse, Granger.”

“I’ve noticed your interest in it,” she said with a slight smirk. She reached up and touched her breasts. “Most guys would go straight for these in this situation.”

“Do that again,” he whispered as his smile faded and that intense look returned. “I like those, of course, but it was your arse that I first noticed, I must admit. Touch your breasts again, Granger.”

Hermione thought her arse was a bit too big and knew her hips were more curvaceous than most blokes seemed to like, but she could feel Cedric’s cock throbbing against bare skin so he must have no complaints. Since he seemed okay from the fall and she had been ready for sex for, oh, several hours now, she decided that the floor was as good a place as any. 

Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples were swollen with arousal, tight and hard as they stood out proudly. She rubbed her wet cunt against his belly, felt his cock against arse, and squeezed her breasts for him. When he released her arse and gripped her hips, she released one of her breasts and balanced her palm on his chest. She hissed softly when she felt his cock slowly slide into her. He was a bit thicker than she’d realized and it took her body a moment to adjust to him, but soon she wiggled and urged him to let her have more.

He arched up and buried his entire length into her, making her gasp as her head fell back. She began to move up and down, riding him right there on the floor with the skirt of her dress covering their joined bodies. He sat up, changing the angle, his hands holding her as he helped guide her movements. They kissed and nibbled, scratched and sucked, and it really wasn’t very long before he was thrusting up and grunting as he came. 

He spilled inside her and she had a moment of awareness as she thanked her doctor for making her take birth control for her menstrual cycle before she slipped back into a lusty daze that had her squeezing Cedric as she kept moving up and down. 

“You didn’t, did you?” he asked in a raspy voice once he’d stopped thrusting and just stayed inside her. 

“No,” she admitted as she kissed his jaw. “It’s okay, though.”

“No, it’s not,” he told her as he smiled sheepishly and kissed her nose. “I was gone so fast and you’re not satisfied. Would it help if I said it’s not always this bad?”

“It’s not bad,” she said with a laugh, wondering if was normally like this after frantic urgent sex. She felt tense and desperate still, true, but she also felt comfortable and relaxed in a really good way. She’d never laughed after sex, not even with Ron, and usually felt rather gross and wanted to take a shower. Right now, she just wanted to do it more.

“You just make me act like a fool,” he whispered in a soft admission before he urged her back onto the floor. He didn’t elaborate on his comment as he gave her a rather wicked smirk and slid out of her. “I’ll take care of you now, Granger.”

“What are you---“ Her words trailed off as he pushed her skirt up around her waist and settled between her legs. Her eyes widened as she saw him staring at her cunt and she raised up on her elbows to watch. He looked up at her and winked before he ran his tongue along her wet lips. 

She was so close that it didn’t take more than a few licks and his tongue pressed against her clit before she came with a soft moan, falling back on the floor as she reached up to touch her breasts. He didn’t stop, though. When she looked down at him again, he had a look of intense focus as he watched her face. His fingers spread her open for him and he sucked and licked until she was writhing against his face and whimpering as she came again.

When he crawled up her body and kissed her, she could taste them on his tongue. She felt his hands on her arse and he pulled her against him as he rubbed languidly. “I need to pee,” she told him bluntly as she slapped his hands away and reluctantly stood up and got off the floor. 

She was a mess. Her body was sweaty, her hair was a messy tangle from his fingers, her breasts were wet from his saliva, she could feel their release on her upper thighs, and her skin was flushed from their recent activities. She reached behind her and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor, and took off her bra, garter belt, and stockings. 

Cedric stood up and removed his trousers and shorts then took her hand and led her to the loo. He peeked inside then smirked. “You have a tub.”

“Yes, I do,” she told him as she waited for that awkward ‘we’ve just had sex uh’ feeling to arrive but it didn’t. Instead, she found herself smiling at him, not at all embarrassed that she looked well-shagged and had just told him she had to pee. 

“Do you suppose it’s big enough for two?” he asked as he pulled her against him and nuzzled her neck. 

“You’re too old to be ready again that fast,” she informed him smugly even as she felt him stirring against her belly as his hands slid down her back to her arse and up again. 

“I’m not that old, Granger,” he muttered before he nipped at her skin. “Besides, you seem to have this ability to turn me into a randy adolescent so it’s only appropriate that I get some sort of benefit along with all the inability to last more than a few minutes, constant stammering like a smitten schoolboy, and other bad stuff.”

“I haven’t seen anything bad yet,” she said as his words caused her to smile and made her feel sexy and feminine in a way she hadn’t in a very long time, if truly ever. 

“Yeah, well, most blokes want to last longer than five minutes when they’re finally making love to a woman they’ve wanted for awhile,” he muttered as his fingers ran through her hair and he looked at her with a different sort of intense look. “The second time will be better, Granger.”

Hermione leaned up and kissed him slowly. When she pulled back, she looked at him for a moment and then smiled as she ran her fingertip over his scarred chin. “The bath is big enough for two people, Diggory. After that, we can see about a second time.”


	10. What Now?

The smell of sausage and bacon filled the air. Hermione groaned softly and turned her head into her pillow as she tried to resist waking up. She was tired and sore this morning, a realization that actually penetrated the sleepiness in her mind and drew her to consciousness. It took her a moment to remember _why_ she was sore and then memories of the previous evening came back to her. 

It had been quite surprising to learn that shagging in the bathtub was actually possible, albeit a bit crowded and messy with water splashing on the floor. They’d both needed a nap after that and it had felt all too natural to snuggle against Cedric’s nude body and sleep. 

He’d woken her once during the night and proceeded to show her what tenacity truly meant as he’d teased and touched and pleasured her for what was most definitely more than five minutes. It had been slow and gentle, lazy thrusts and soft exploration, and they’d fallen asleep again wrapped in each other’s arms. It had been the best sleep she’d had in awhile. 

When she finally opened her eyes, she blinked at the discovery of Cedric lying on his side beside her, simply watching her sleep. He was naked, the sheet riding low on his hips, and he had a slight smile on his lips as his fingers brushed through her hair. 

“Good morning,” he said softly as he dropped his hand. 

“Good morning. What time is it?” she asked as she ran her tongue over her teeth and kept herself from breathing in his face. 

“Half ten,” he told her after a quick glance over his shoulder at the clock on the table by the bed. 

“Half ten?” She groaned and stretched, certain muscles protesting the action as they reminded her they’d been very used the night before. “I never sleep this late.”

“I think you were rather tired,” he reminded her with a grin that was far too cheeky for this early in the day. “I don’t usually sleep this late, either, but I was reluctant to wake up.”

“How long have you been awake?” she asked, _watching me_ was unspoken but evident in the somewhat sleepy but curious look she gave him.

“About half an hour, I guess. I didn’t want to wake you because you were sleeping so well,” he explained before a crooked smile crossed his lips. “I also sort of like watching you sleep. You snuggle against your pillow in a really cute way and nibble your lip right here,” his finger brushed against her lip, “and you drool just a little.”

“Talking about my drooling is not exactly high on my list of morning discussion topics, Diggory,” she muttered as she wiped the side of her face, her lip still tingling from his casual touch. 

“You’re beautiful, Granger. Drool and all,” he replied as he leaned down to kiss her. 

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” she pointed out as she dodged his lips. 

“Are you always this cranky in the mornings?” he asked with an arched brow. 

“I’m not cranky,” she denied with a slight glare. “I’m just not used to _this_.”

“Neither am I,” he admitted, knowing exactly what she was talking about. “There haven’t really been any morning afters for me in a very long time. I suppose my calling your drooling cute isn’t really helping, huh?”

“That would be a no,” she informed him with a slight smile. The sneaky prat took advantage of her relaxation and pressed her against the bed as he kissed her, seemingly not caring at all that her mouth was really gross. He tasted of toothpaste, and she knew he must have used hers. She soon forgot about her morning mouth as he deepened the kiss and moved his hand along her side beneath the sheet. 

Cedric pulled back and grinned. “Now that’s a proper greeting,” he decided before he nipped at her bottom lip. He moved off her and sat up, not caring that the sheet had fallen to reveal just how well he’d enjoyed that kiss. His hair was tousled even more than usual but instead of looking messy like hers did, his looked sexy. 

“You’re far too perky in the morning,” she accused as she stretched lazily and smiled. Normally, she’d be awake and alert in the morning but today she was languid and felt like staying in bed all day. With him. 

“I’ve always been a bit of a morning person,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders that drew her attention to the bite mark she’d left there some time in the middle of the night. He ran his hands through his hair and glanced down at his stirring erection and then at her where the sheet had fallen to her waist and then at her face, gnawing on his lip as he was obviously debating whether or not to ask for a shag. It was rather adorable, which was yet another clue that she was in far over her head with Cedric Diggory. 

Hermione needed to pee and clean up before she gave any thought to a morning shag. However, there was something she could do before she went to the loo. Before he had a chance to prepare himself, she sat up and pushed him back against the bed, smiling as she leaned over him. 

“Granger, some warning next time might be nice,” he muttered as he watched her curiously. She began to kiss her way down his chest and heard him actually whimper in the back of his throat when she nuzzled the trail of hair on his lower belly. His fingers tangled in her hair and he urged her to look up at him. “You don’t have---“

“I want to,” she told him honestly before she licked his belly and moved her mouth lower. She brushed her fingers through the coarse curls surrounding his erection and then gripped the base of his cock. He was fully hard now, twitching as her warm breath blew against his flesh, and she wanted to make his toes curl like he’d done to her the previous evening.

She wasn’t overly fond of blow jobs and hadn’t given them very often. She had a tendency to gag when something was shoved into her throat and her tongue got tired and her jaw got sore rather quickly. He had a nice cock, thick enough to feel without being too uncomfortable and not so long it felt like she was being poked with a wand but long enough to touch all the spots that made her moan. She kissed the head and moved her tongue over his slit to taste the first drops of arousal. 

“Oh God,” he murmured softly and she looked up to see that his face was flushed and he was biting his lip just from that brief touch. She smiled wickedly before she licked the underside of his cock from his balls to the head, listening to his grunts and whimpers as she began to focus. She only took the first few inches into her mouth when she began to suck him, but made sure her fingers stroked the remaining length. 

It wasn’t as bad as she remembered. In fact, she was getting wet from listening to him and knowing she was making him lose control a bit. She liked that he wasn’t afraid to be vocal with his noises and that he didn’t feel a need to really talk during sex, itself, unless it was to ask her if something felt good or she wanted more. She began to move her head up and down, licking and sucking and stroking until his body tensed. She debated on whether to pull her head back when she sensed his imminent release and decided to keep sucking as she really didn’t mind the taste at all. 

Cedric grunted when he came, arching off the bed as he spilled inside her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, the bitter salty taste thick on her tongue as she used her hand to wank him until he was spent. When she pulled back, she licked her lips to get any stray drops and wiped her chin with the back of her hand. He was looking at her with an expression that made her tummy flutter and her heart race. 

Hermione crawled up his body and kissed him, rubbing against his thigh rather wantonly as she sought her own release. His fingers moved between her legs and pressed in all the right spots to send her over the edge. She came on his hand with a soft whimper against his lips. She rolled off him and laid beside him, knowing she couldn’t put off going to the loo any longer.

“I have breakfast,” Cedric told her in a soft voice that sounded sated and slightly amazed. She looked at him and he smiled as he rolled to his side and brushed her hair away from her face. “I didn’t know what you liked so I ordered a little of everything. It’s, uh, quite a bit of food.”

She laughed as she looked over at the table he indicated and she saw several plates of food. Her stomach growled to indicate that she was hungry enough to eat just about anything. “It looks delicious,” she told him as she met his gaze again. 

“You go clean up and I’ll get things arranged,” he said as he rolled forward to kiss her again and then kissed her nose. “Go before I decide to forget breakfast and just keep you here.”

“Bossy, aren’t you, Diggory?” she teased as she kissed his chin and then got out of bed. Bloody hell, she was sore but in a way she didn’t mind at all. 

“You should talk, Granger,” he muttered as he stood and walked to the table to arrange breakfast while she went to the loo. 

After she peed, she took a quick shower and then brushed her teeth. There was no denying that she looked like a woman who had spent the night in bed with a very attentive lover. She left her hair wet because her wand was in her bag where she’d had to leave it during the ceremony due to the Muggle location. When she went back into the room, she picked up his discarded shirt from the night before and slipped it on, not bothering to button more than a few buttons on it. 

“That smells good,” she said as she moved behind him, noticing he’d pulled on his shorts, and hugged his waist, smelling his neck in a way that told him she didn’t necessarily mean the food. 

Cedric turned and looked at her, his expression changing when he saw her standing there with wet hair, bare feet, and just wearing his shirt with the collar open to reveal the marks he’d left on her neck the previous evening. She shifted and stared at him, not sure what he was looking at in such a way. He shook his head slightly and then smiled. 

“You look good in my shirt, Granger,” he told her as he divided the eggs onto two plates. She noticed that he’d gotten them scrambled, thankfully, and reached out to snag a piece of crispy bacon. He smirked and leered playfully. “Of course, you look even better _out_ of my shirt.”

“Incorrigible,” she muttered as she rolled her eyes and smiled. 

“Sit down and eat.” He reached over and smacked her bum, making her laugh as she sat down and looked at all the food.

“I might be starving but there isn’t any way we’re going to be able to eat all this,” she decided as she mentally debated what to eat first. She glanced over and saw that he had his plate neatly arranged with the eggs not touching the ham or the sausage. She cut up her sausage and ham and then mixed it with her eggs, smiling slightly when he cringed subtly at seeing her plate. 

“I don’t know. Someone wore me out last night so I could use a bit of energy,” he replied as he took a bite of his sausage and then neatly cut one sliver of his ham off. 

They ate in comfortable silence until the initial hunger pain and stomach growling was appeased. She smiled as she caught him looking at her several times and blushed when he caught her looking at him. She was debating whether or not she wanted to eat one of the pastries when she met his gaze again. 

“This is nice,” she admitted softly, suddenly sensing the awkward morning after ‘where do we go from here’ sort of feeling. 

“It’s not exactly how I had planned things,” he confessed with a crooked smile that she honestly thought might be replacing his smirk as the most arousing thing she’d ever seen.

“Really?” She wasn’t sure what that statement meant so her reply was somewhat guarded. 

“Well, I’d figured dinner out somewhere and maybe a little dancing or something. A few dates while I charmed you completely and then, if I was really lucky, a kiss or two. I didn’t quite reach the sharing breakfast the morning after a night of making love part in my plan,” he explained as his cheeks once again flushed as he somewhat stammered out a few of his words. He smiled then. “Of course, I _did_ think about the night of making love part quite a bit.”

It was the _making love_ part that did it, really. She had even somewhat thought of it as just shagging, really good sex, and he was sitting there with his tousled hair and bare chest talking about dates and making love. It was then that she finally understood what Harry meant, that she realized it _was_ something more than a flirtation at a wedding and great sex. 

That realization scared her.

“And if I hadn’t run into you in the hallway yesterday, would we be here like this now?” she asked softly.

“Probably not,” he said quietly. “I’d be home kicking myself for all the things I should have done but didn’t and for letting yet another opportunity to ask you out pass by because I could never tell if you actually meant the flirting or were just playing.”

Hermione nodded slowly, understanding exactly what he meant. “Then I’m glad it was you that Harry sent upstairs to get me.”

“Actually, I volunteered,” he confessed with a slight smile. “I didn’t expect to knock you off your feet in quite that way, of course, but I can’t complain.”

“So what now?” she asked bluntly, having no use for silly games and subtly. 

“Well, I figured we’d finish breakfast and it looks like a pretty day so maybe take a walk, with several stops along the way so I can kiss you, and after that probably a late lunch somewhere.”

“I have to be out of the room by noon.”

“Actually, I reserved it another night when I ordered breakfast.”

“Rather confident, weren’t you?”

“Always prepared is my motto, Granger. And a, uh, bit of wishful thinking doesn’t hurt either.”

“And after lunch, Diggory? What other wicked schemes do you have planned?”

“God, do I need to write out an itinerary? Two o’clock, have lunch. Half two, make Granger scream for more. Three fifteen, shower.”

“Hmph. More like, two forty-five, shower, _if_ I’m being generous.”

“Brat.”

“Diggory, don’t even think about it!”

“You’ve called my stamina into question, Granger. It’s only fair that I get an opportunity to prove the claims untrue. Consider it an experiment, if you must.”

“All in the interest of research and science then?” 

“Of course. I’m a very research oriented guy, you know?”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Diggory,” Hermione reminded him as he pushed her against the bed, the remainder of their breakfast forgotten for now. 

“I don’t know, Granger,” he said honestly as he traced her cheek with his fingers. “We’ve not even been out on a proper date yet.”

“That’s because you’ve not asked me,” she told him as she moved her ankle lightly over the back of his leg.

“Will you go out with me?”

“When?”

“Granger!”

“What? I might just be using you for sex,” she teased.

“Tonight,” he said firmly. “You, me, dinner somewhere, a pretty dress that covers your breasts and shows off your great arse, and maybe a romantic walk so I can seduce you into keeping me around.”

“Your arse fetish is rather adorable.”

“Your neck fetish is rather adorable.”

“I don’t have a neck fetish,” she denied even as she discreetly removed her fingers from where they’d been stroking his neck. 

“Sure you don’t,” he teased before he kissed her nose. “Are you going to give me an answer or do I have to get more persuasive?”

“Yes, of course,” she told him as she rolled her eyes. “Did you really think I’d say no?”

“Well, the notion did strike my mind once or twice,” he admitted with a shrug. “I’m not particularly good at this sort of thing, you know?”

“I wouldn’t say that. You seem very good in my opinion.”

“I can be _very_ good,” he drawled lazily as his previous insecurity faded and was replaced by the sexy smugness that he really only showed her. 

“Prove it,” she challenged with a smug smile of her own. He moved his hand beneath her shirt and she moaned when he kissed her neck. “Oh, Diggory?”

“Yes, Granger?” he asked in an impatient ‘stop talking and let me pleasure you now’ tone that she could really get used to hearing. 

“Since I’m thinking I might keep you around for awhile,” she said as he looked at her and gave her a big smile at hearing her words, “there’s something I’m going to need you to do for me.”

“All right. What?”

“It’s nothing at all, really,” she assured him as she wiggled in a way that would distract him. 

“Granger,” he groaned as he moved his hand higher and squeezed her breast.

“I promised Ron that he and Harry could take you out for a drink and a little talk if things progressed beyond flirting,” she told him with her best ‘if you do this for me, you’ll get rewarded _very_ well’ smile. 

“You want me to have a drink with those two while they threaten me and make sure that I know I’m lucky you’ve decided not to let me go?” he clarified as he frowned and appeared thoughtful. 

“Well, I don’t really want you to but I did promise.”

“I suppose I can do that,” he relented with a dramatic sigh followed by a smug smile. “Of course, that means you have to be my date for the next Hufflepuff dinner, Granger.”

Hermione made a face and gave every impression she was considering whether or not she should say yes to such an offer. He shifted and licked her neck, making her smile as she sighed happily. “Fine, Diggory. I guess I can do that.” 

He laughed softly and kissed her thoroughly while his hands moved over her body. When he pulled back, their gazes met and she was fully aware that she was flushed and smiling a smile just as goofy as his own. Then they kissed again, soft and gentle, a promise of things to come. 

The End


End file.
